Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sand – it was always sand that first greeted them when they started the cycle again. That and the waving cloth anchored to a gravestone to greet them. The wayfarer trudged up the slope and, as always, the mountain shined just behind it. They basked in its glow for a split second before surfing down the dune and making their way to the first shrine. After collecting the first glyphs, the red wayfarer paused to look at the statue at the center of it all, standing as it always had.

The cloaked figure gave a low whined ‘chrrrr’ and kicked the sand before pacing about. 

A thousand thoughts and few ways to express them plagued the wayfarer. Not having proper ways to voice said thoughts definitely was number one on the list of things that bothered them. They sat down roughly and stared hard at the sand before them- ignoring the silent call of the statue. 

There was a feeling growing in their chest over the loop that they, and every other wayfarer, went through. From here to the mountain and back - just to do it again. They were immensely frustrated. 

Make no mistake, they still loved the trip very much, loved teaching the new ones and the fun times with the experienced ones. But they wanted... something. Something something something.

They whacked the ground with their pointed leg in frustration.

How many times had they gone to the mountain? If the patterns didn’t stop after four trips, they were sure they’d be completely covered in gold by now. They knew everything here by heart, even helped create new things in wake of things that they all realized were fundamentally missing. 

They thought back to all their journeys, the hundreds of other wayfarers they meet on the way, and the things they all passed between each other in order to just make themselves clear to one another. Rapid chirps to say ‘this way!’ or ‘I found something! Come look!’. A stomp on the ground meaning ‘I’m mad.’ The silly face plant they all thought was a good way to say ... er, well... let’s have fun/ this is fun/this harmless/I feel silly-stupid... depends really, it was one of the more ‘open’ expressions. Sometimes they did it just ‘cause.

But they suppose that they simply wished the-ones-from-before had left them just a little bit more to work with.

Like what the glyphs said. They had to have meanings behind them, but they weren’t like the tapestries that were easy to understand. Their meanings were lost on the-ones-from-now.
Worse, all of them had one, but they couldn’t really say them to others. Draw them out to say ‘this is my glyph! If you see this glyph again it’s me!’ But what did the glyphs stand for really? For all they knew a glyph could mean ‘stupid face and they’d never know.

The wayfarer absentmindedly drew their own glyph lazily in the sand with their leg. 



That’s what their glyph looked like. It looked an awful lot like the gates they surfed through on the way to the caves, but who really knew?

Maybe that’s the point they supposed. Start over, make what you will of the world and the things left behind, just don’t fight with each other and cause another world-ending war. Maybe they had to make it mean something new, don’t linger on what it could’ve meant, but what you could make it mean. 

So,

sat and thought for a moment, what could they make their glyph mean? What should it mean? They had thought about it before but never went through with it all the way. The reasoning had always been “it’s probably not that” or “its meaning must be around here somewhere.’ But now... after searching the path top to bottom a few hundred times? Those reasonings simply weren’t holding up anymore to hold off any longer.

So what guess could they make of it?

Gates? Doors? Arches? Gateway, Doorway, Archway? Those were the simplest ones. They weren’t really sure how ‘one who loved to surf through gates/doors/arches down a steep sand hill’ would pan out in a theoretical casual talk.

After some time of thinking, the wayfarer decided “Archways” made a ‘nice’ name.

...

How would one say ‘Archways’ anyway?

...

For the next hour or so, Archways made a fool of themselves with an array of odd chirps, screeches, tweets, and booms trying to figure out what ‘archways’ should theoretically sound like. But alas they thumped to the ground frustrated once more. They had so very little to go by, even with the-ones-from-now slowly, so slowly, making their own version of a language.

...

 
maybe there WAS something left behind by the-ones-from-before that could help with communication between the-ones-from-now. A point of reference so to speak.
But it wasn’t here, no doubt about it, but maybe it was beyond the path of the mountain. 
Archways expertly climbed to the top of the ruins and gazed into the seemingly endless desert. Perhaps out there, there was more left behind from them. More history, more references, more lessons, more things to satisfy the growing curiosity that they had no answers to here.

Taking one last look at the mountain, the shining beacon in a ruined world, the one who called for all to make the trip, to which Archways made a series of notes that held meaning, a song of sorts from some forgotten tale, low and slow and held long like you didn’t want to let go.

“Goodbye,” they said. “Do not pity me, I was born for this.”

It was the last thing the-ones-from-before had left, the one that fueled their want for more every time they heard it on the wind at death’s door in the bitter cold storm.

 “‘Archways’!” They tried. “was born for this!”

Chapter Text

The first hurdle to get past was the blasted wind barrier, but of the hundreds of others they had travelled with, a few had found some weak points and had been excited to spread the news and technique around. It was a little hard because you had to build up a lot of speed and then get under the wind to push through.

Getting the speed was easy for Archways. They could fly higher and stay up longer than most others. Even some white cloaks -who had the advantage- had to really work it to keep up. This sort of happened simply because Archways never liked the color on themselves –even with the added perks- but still wanted to do the tricks that the white cloaks could perform. So, stubbornly, they took the harder route and ended up getting a lot of experience from their experimentation.

Archways, before they took off, wanted to get to a higher spot on top of the ruin as not to waste energy.

And here came another useful skill they learned, one that was tricky for everyone no matter what since it didn’t come naturally like flying –Climbing.

Moving back to the ruins, Archways eyed the eroding building up and down looking for footholds; the metal gates were no good, their legs always slipped through and would get caught, they needed something solid to brace against.

Soon they found the easiest spot to climb- lots of holes in the wall and a short distance to the top.

They started first by pressing their whole body against the wall, to help balance them, and then put their leg into the first foothold. They then pushed up and then reached with their free leg into the next foothold. On and on they carefully shimmied up the wall til they reach the top of the wall.

Now getting over that last bit and onto the roof was the trickiest. With no more wall to brace against, the wayfarer had to plant their face onto the roof and roughly throw the rest of their body after them.

After that it was the easy part. Archways leapt into the air with one powerful stroke and spread out their cloak wide to catch the wind. Using the wind barrier as an aid, Archways was tossed up high into the sky.

Archways circled once around the ruins to correct themselves before bee-lining to the weak point in the barrier. As they neared, they closed their cloak tight, tilted downwards, and dropped like a boulder; and at the last second before they’d ultimately plant themselves into the ground, they open their cloak to maximum and forced themselves out of the downward drop.

The wind barrier hit them like a solid rock of fury. Archways squinted their eyes shut as they were buffered by the flying sand and gave another mighty flap of their cloak to push through.
They were close to punching through, but the wind was starting to grip their cloak to yank them away. One last almighty heave ripped them from the wind’s grasp and they tumbled out the other side of the barrier.

With no glyphs left to spare, Archways shouted in triumph as they got to their feet and shook off the sand.

Now the fun part.

What was way out there in the endless desert?

-==========-

For the first couple days, Absolutely Squat NOTHING.

At least nothing to answer Archways’ curiosity. Sand, sand, rock, sand, sand, sand, rock, !cloth friends!, sand, grave, the foundations of a building, sand, sand, saaaaaaand.

Though they were some new experiences.

Flying for two days straight was starting to seem like a bad idea. There was this heaviness that they just couldn’t shake off and it was getting worse. But they had no idea why that was, surely it would have been the same like the usual two hours flying they did to the mountain?

Archways’ eyes fluttered close against their will and then quickly snapped open again when they veered to the side. It had been like this for hours now and, regrettably, Archways knew they had to land and figure this out or drop out of the sky anyway. They couldn’t focus and they’d surely miss things like this.

A bit of sand slapped them in the face. Archways shook it off sluggishly, but more just replaced it.

A sudden burst of wind caught the wayfarer off guard and nearly pushed them into a huge dune. Where was this wind and sand coming from? Another wind barrier out here that they had to get over?

Archways bleary scanned the horizon.

Then suddenly felt as frozen as ice as their eyes spotted something very worrying.

A little ways to their right, a wind barrier that engulfed the sky was barreling straight for them. With a start, Archways realized that it was a sandstorm. One that could do major damage if they didn’t find cover fast.

But as they looked all around, there was simply nothing to hide behind. They looked around frantically and tried to fly higher; there must be something around here, even just a little boulder would do.

The sandstorm didn’t care and another strong wind beat the wayfarer down. Even if there was no cover, they had to land fast lest they lose total control to the raging storm. The large sand dune was probably their only option so they turned on a dime and they let themself pulmet to the ground. The sand blew wildly and the storm made haste. The sky was losing its light and the dune was starting to vanish in a sea of sand. Just when they touched ground, the wall had reached them and unleashed its wrath.

Archways screeched in alarm as they were tossed and turned with no way of knowing sky from ground. Their legs frantically searched for purchase as they wrapped their cloak painfully tight around them. They eventually slammed into a dune and the moment’s pause was enough for Archways to right themselves and press themselves as flat as a cloth friend into the dune. But the wind was strong and wrestled to get under the wayfarer’s cloak. Archways struggled to keep the wind from lifting them off the ground, but to no avail. They were ripped from the ground momentarily, but it was enough for the wind to carry them up and away.

It was only thanks to being blow harshly into a now revealed broken war machine that Archways found a place to hide. The wind nearly separated them from their sweet haven of cover, yet Archways won. The wind howled in blistering rage at its escaped prey. Out of its reach, Archways pressed themself tightly to the walls of the broken machine and let themself have a moment to breath.

They felt a tickle at their legs. Archways pinged in confusion and shifted carefully to search for the source. The storm wasn’t done yet and was now shoving wave after wave of sand into the small space.

Alarmed once more, Archways started to swipe, kick, and push at the sand frantically in an attempt to get the sand out. It wasn’t working and soon the sand had invaded the space. Archways curled up as tightly as they could , knees above their head and cloak shrink wrapped around.

The sand licked at their back but never engulfed them. Archways cracked an eye open; when had they closed them? It was pitch black now, the sand blocking the entrance, but also blocking the storm from reaching them.

They were effectively buried.

That heaviness from before was back, now that they were safe. They chirped feebly at the heaviness.

‘Go away’ they wanted to say. Eventually, they lost the fight and fell asleep for the first time in their life.

Chapter Text

Everything was quiet when Archways came to.

Mostly because Archways laid very still thinking they were supposed to wait for the-ones-from-before to do their thing – the thing they do at the mountain where they hypercharge them with energy to get through the final bit of the storm. They had woken up a short while ago much like during that portion of the journey, lying on the ground seemingly lifeless only to be suddenly awake and alive and full of energy again. The heaviness from before was now gone as well and Archways was now alert much as they had been two days ago.

And yet nothing happened. No ones-from-before appeared nor any energy gifted to them for pushing determinedly forward. Just… suddenly awake again.

Archways gave a small chirp trying to get the attention of any ones-from-before that may be watching over them.

Still nothing.

Archways rolled onto their back in the small space and stared at nothing in particular. They were confused as to what was happening and why certain things weren't happening. Archways decided to give a much louder boom of noise, but still, there was no one to answer them.

Archways was starting to feel very alone.

And very cramped.

Archways looked to where they had entered the hiding space. They could barely see it as the only light in the space came from their glowing eyes.

Time to start digging they suppose. But digging with their blade-like legs was not the way to go. Instead, they gave loud booming shouts that moved the sand a lot faster than frantically swiping with their legs would have. The sand in front of them shifted behind them as they inched forward with each explosive cry until finally, the sand burst outwards into the open air.

The storm was gone leaving the desert pretty much how it was before if shifted a little. Or perhaps a lot – Some new things had been unearthed during the storm leaving them exposed to the air.

And what was exposed was an entire graveyard –hundreds of them- and not just of the-ones-from-before but also dozens of old broken war machines that had toppled on top of each other.

All this hadn't been here the day before…

Archways wondered how much they had missed during the previous couple of days. How much of the past laid just beneath the surface? Archways marched on, checking every nook and cranny they could find.

But there wasn't much, not even any trapped cloth critters moved within the machines. In fact, whatever creatures had been trapped had already been set free from the looks of it - all the gates in every single war machines had been opened.

Could that mean there was someone else nearby?

Archways gave a series of long thrills and rapid fast chirps in hopes someone would hear them. They hadn't seen one soul since leaving the path and a friend would be nice.

But no one replied.

Well, sometimes it just takes getting to the highest spot to be noticed.

Archways immediately trudged up the highest dune to try again but upon reaching the top could only stand in shocked silence at what laid behind it.

A MASSIVE war machine, almost fully intact despite the holes littering its thick armor, was sticking out the ground like a miniature mountain. This thing was as big as fifty other war machines combined. The smaller ones were scary enough and Archways hoped they'd never see a big one like this in action. It also left a familiar tug in their memory. A scene that was shown to them over and over again.

A scene shown to them by the-ones-from-before of them wagering war against one another. A battle had broken out over the city and there in the center of it all was a war machine –one that had dwarfed the rest- tearing down a building with ease.

Was this the same one from the story?

Archways was pulled from their uneasy thoughts to the sound of old gates grinding open.

At the second segment, the one before the head, a white cloak walked out into the sunlight. They hadn't noticed Archways as their back was facing them.

Archways gave a happy thrill as they jumped into the air – gilding with ease down to the white cloak. Maybe it was someone they had met before on the path? But as they got closer, it became increasingly obvious that something wasn't quite right.

The white cloak had spun around at their call and instead of returning a happy hello or simple greeting they had become tense and had puffed out their cloak to look bigger.

And look bigger they did because as Archways travel the long length of the war machine they realized that the white cloak was a lot taller than any other white cloak they'd encounter before.

Archways landed a little ways away from the strange stranger – more distance than they usually did – and peered at the face of the tall white cloak. Archways gave a confused tweet instinctively as they tried to process what they were seeing.

It was a one-from-before but without the pure white glow of the others; in fact, their cloak wasn't bright at all, but dulled from damage, ripped at the edges with brittle brown spots here and there. The face was off too – one side was white with a blue eye like the other ones-from-before but the other side was black as their own with a white eye. The split between sides wasn't even either with a grey zigzag crawling down the middle and a small island of black surrounded by white on the one side. The signature "V" was also missing.

With a start, Archways realized something very important

This one-from-before was Alive.

And they had not moved an inch since Archways had landed near them, still stiff as a statue.

Archways gave another, albeit more hesitant, chirp of greetings.

The living-one-from-before eyed them with their own confusion and a hint of suspicion before letting their cloak relax. They were very much still tense, however, and kept their distance.

"Who are you? And why are you so… small? And Red?" They asked, but unfortunately, Archways had no idea what they had just said. The other ones-from-before, the six from the path, had just projected images with a single chirp and let said images do all the talking for them.

Archways nervously shuffled where they stood and kind of scanned the ground a bit. The living-one-from-before wasn't patient like the six Archways knew and gave a sharp click-like sound.

Archways guessed the only thing they could do was try.

"I! Ahkloaeu! I lihfeaunou?"

"What?"

"AWGNU!"

"Has the desert gotten to you?"

Archways didn't know what to do. The living-one-from-before looked baffled and by the sound of their chirps they were extremely confused and even a bit concerned. What HAD they just said to them? Archways shuffled where they stood and scanned the ground again, now embarrassed.

But looking at the sand gave them an idea. They can talk with pictures! But what to say?

Archways began scribbling in the sand with their leg drawing out the building at the beginning of the path and their flight to here and the storm they had gotten stuck in. It wasn't as good as the tapestries from the path but it was clear. They looked up at the living-one-from-before then back down to the drawings they made – they did this several times before tapping on the ground next to the drawings and taking a step back.

The living-one-from-before cautiously step forward and kept their eyes on them as they drew near. They nearly bent in half trying to look at the pictures and they gave a curious hum from deep in their chest.

"What's this place?" They asked and tapped the building from the beginning of the path. And while Archways didn't understand the words, they did understand the gesture. Hastily they drew the mountain on top of the building.

"You're from the mountain?" They chirped with a mixture of emotion that Archways couldn't quite place. Their voice sounded both happy and sad and something else too.

"Tell me – or show me I guess - some more?" They tweeted with genuine curiosity, but Archways still couldn't understand their words. Archways gave an exaggerated tilt of their head in confusion. The living-one-from-before seemed confused for a second as Archway failed to speak before getting the hint.

"Right… you speak gibberish…" They deadpanned before drawing out their own pictures in reply.

And that's how it went for hours – just drawing back and forth in an effort to understand each other.

As it went on, Archways became more and more happy at having found the living-one-from-before because they held the answers they were out here looking for.

More stories, More lessons, More knowledge of the past, and most importantly -

How to talk.

Chapter Text

The sun was far past its highest by the time they stopped and Archways had learned many things from and about the-alive-one-from-before.

But one thing stood out the most was, while Archways WAS learning more from the alive-one (such as hearing familiar words spoken not sung) and was thrilled to have met them, they were ATROCIOUS at conveying things through pictures. Time and time again they made their drawings too complex to the point that the ideas and thoughts and questions were all muddled and lost. They also didn’t do events in a straight line and they were all littered on the ground disconnected from one another; even if two or more were a part of a story. Archways ended up having to lead by example with their own drawings; simple and easy to understand.

Like them playing with other ones-from-now and days of surfing down sands. They also asked questions about the humongous war machine, drawing part of the scene where it destroys the building and then pointing at the one laying on the ground. Was it the same one? Unfortunately, the-alive-one shook their head “no”; that filled Archways with distant dread.

The-alive-one-from-before went onto a new subject, but while they were getting better at their pictures they still hadn’t gotten it quite right yet.

They were trying to ask… something.. they had seemed interested in the mountain in some shape or form - as were many of their questions –It gave Archways the thought that this one hadn’t been to the Mountain at all. But, like many of their other drawings, the question was nearly lost because of their execution of the drawing; this time they got lost in doing the patterns on the other ones-from-before’s cloaks (which only confirmed Archways suspicions, the cloaks they drew all had different levels of patterns but alive-one didn’t). If they had to guess by the number of them they were drawing then Archways thought that maybe they were asking if there were others like them at the mountain.

And so Archways responded to that; figures all laying face-first on the ground and with the sand covering them on top –dead, all of them.

The-alive-one hadn’t responded with another picture to that one, simply drooping down and not uttering a word. Their eyes – both white and blue – looked far, far away from the present. After a few moments past, they scrunch up their face in thought before drawing a very familiar figure – the statue of the six.

“Do you know what this is?” They tapped it twice and then pointed at Archways with a foot.

Archways nodded, sure in the question being asked despite some words being unknown to them – for now. They drew a lengthy line in the sand where at the bottom they spaced out the six statues and at the top they put the six scenes of the tapestry –one scene for each statue.

The-alive-one blinked in surprise once it was done.

“Six are still standing?” The-alive-one muttered to themself. Archways had their own question to ask back as they circled the birds and the plants in the first scene, going so far as to mimic the noise birds made, before lifting their pointed leg to the-alive-one; they wanted to know if the-alive-one ever saw them.. well.. flying and being alive like themselves.

“Birds?” The-alive-one chirped quizzically with a new word Archways finally recognized before sudden eagerness struck the-alive-one. “I’ve GOT to show you something, something I’ve wanted to share with someone and something I think you’ll love!” They chimed gleefully as they got up abruptly and practically galloped towards the gate at the top of the Giant war machine’s neck. Archways followed suit with a series of curious fwees and clicks. What was going on?

The two of them waited as the gates slowly groaned open in protest. The-alive-one shuffled from foot-to-foot impatiently – it looked like a strange dance almost. The millisecond the gate was wide enough the-alive-one darted in - almost getting stuck on the gate itself in their haste.

Archways lagged behind as they let their eyes roam the entrance for a moment. They could see lanterns lighting the way down and the way down was deeper than Archways had previously guessed. Carefully they surfed down the steep hill and entered what must’ve either once been a building or a natural cave that the war machine fell on top of. The holes at the top of the machine let lazy light shine through that helped illuminate the area.

But the expansive room itself and its size weren’t what held Archways’ wide eyes.

Row upon row were plants – small plants, wide plants, tall plants, plants of many colors, plants with fruit, plants with flowers, plants plants plants.

Most of the spacious area was filled to the brim with plants all carefully attended to with barely a lick of sand to see. There was even a little winding creek –protected in the shade from the greedy dry air above- dancing between them.

The-alive-one ignored them, instead hurriedly darting to a back corner past a bunch of tools and gizmos all the while clicking some tune Archways didn’t recognize.

Archways followed them curious as to what had gotten the-alive-one so giddy all of a sudden when the-alive-one shouted with delight and beckoned them over.

“Here I found it! It’s been so long since I’ve last looked through it myself that it got buried under all this stuff.” The-alive-one gently wrapped their cloak under what looked like a regular slab of stone. Archways got a little distracted as they were memorized by how the-alive-one had grabbed ahold and lifted the slab with the edges of their cloak. The slab was obviously a tad bit heavy as the-alive-one strained and heaved the slab up onto an eroded table where it made a loud thump.

But the sound of the thump piqued Archways too. Rocks falling on top of other rocks did not go ‘thump’.

And then the-alive-one flipped it open.

“I used to draw all sorts of birds when they were still around.” The-alive-one said but the excitement from before soon became as distant as the mountain. “They’re all gone now, but I like to remind myself every once in a while as not to forget them.”

Archways hopped up onto the table –one built for someone much taller – to actually see the contents of the not-a-slab. When they did they became locked on the spot; it was a little like a tapestry but with a hundred more pictures. And despite the brittle yellowing pages, everything was intact and still shone with its spectrum of colors and details. Birds, hundreds if not thousands of them, were drawn in colored charcoal. And it wasn’t one species either; they all varied in size, shape, coloration, and patterns; every precious detail captured and hoarded within its pages.

The one thing that stood out the most was that they didn’t look like they were made of cloth like they themselves. Archways always had the idea that they weren’t, but seeing it confirmed was a whole new feeling.

“I… tried to save some, long ago, but there were too few already and something made them sick,” The-alive-one said with a crack in their voice. “I don’t know what happened really. I tried, but..”

They turned away for a moment to collect themself. Archways gave a small comforting coo to the tall white cloak, but hadn’t a clue what else to do to ease their sudden sorrow. The seconds ticked by while Archways waited but soon they started to absent-mindedly flipped from one page to the next until it landed on a very familiar looking bird.

One that was now in full realistic detail rather than the simplified version Archways was always so accustomed to.

What wonders it would’ve been to see.

 Archways chimed loudly like a church bell, startling the-alive-one out of their thoughts. Already Archways had jumped down to the ground to draw.

It was them, the two of them together, out on the vast desert with birds flying overhead. And then another picture of them flying with the birds. Archways squinted their eyes in a big happy grin as they waited for Alive-one’s thoughts. Perhaps they could out and find some? The desert WAS vast.

But the Alive-one’s mood didn’t change.

“They’re gone, don’t you understand?” The alive-one rumbled from deep in their chest. “maybe if I – no, no, no more thinking about this no – aurgh not again.”

Archways looked up puzzled at the sudden steamy mist that escaped the alive-one’s eyes. Oh, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to draw? Archways fell silent as they awkwardly looked for anything to cheer up Alive-one before landing their eyes on vibrant green.

“Paagreh! Paurish! this this this!”

Alive-one’s gaze followed Archways as they skipped over to the plants, befuddled enough by their sort –of- gibberish-sort-of-not to lessen the mist.

Archway’s did a little twirl than dramatically swung their cloak wide before gesturing towards Alive-one. Alive-one sort of stared before lowering their head. Archways gave a quiet tweet – was Alive-one still upset? But before Archways could try something else, Alive-one started shaking –shaking from holding in a laugh.

“I guess that sort of makes sense? Those plants must be an impossible sight to see for you…” Alive-one chuckled, but it was bittersweet and held a distant contempt for what had happened. “But…these are just a handful of what was once many..”  While Archways was far from fluent, they knew the emotions Alive-one was going through and what it entailed. It was here that Archways decided that they needed to remind the tall white cloak what it was to have some joy in the world.

Archways ran up to the nearest plant – a sturdy looking thing with drooping limbs and purple flowers- and hopped right on to the top.

“What are you doing?” Alive-one quizzically asked as Archways disappeared into the middle of it – only to watch Archways fling themself high above it with a loud ping before plummeting down into the next plant out of view only to pop out of that one as well. Over and over and up and down, Archways played peek-a-boo.

Alive-one shuffled awkwardly where they stood as they watched Archways hop and fly about from plant to plant.

Archways landed on a stout plant of many branches and pinged an inviting note, but Alive-one did not move from their spot. They sat down abruptly on top of the plant wondering why the alive-one wasn’t joining in on the game and quickly decided to swoop back down to the tall white cloak and try a different method.

They dived down from above and landed right in front of Alive-one–not noticing them flinch back- and started to ping insistently, running up to Alive-one then to the plants and then back again.

“…?”Alive-one pinged back.

“Me you goes to plaemusht!” Archways smushed and pulled what words they knew (while trying not to sing them) and threw in what they thought might be the word ‘plants’ to try and get their intent across.

“Me you goes to what?? Do you mean plants???”

“Plinets!”

“Plants.”

“Plants!”

“… what am I, or rather, what are we supposed to do with the  plants?”

Archways scrunched their eyes and stared dumbfounded at the Alive-one. Of the few hundred people they met in their life before Alive-one, all of which had a total of 26 words at most to use, every single one of them knew that they wanted to play with just the body language Archways gave off.

Archways took a step closer to Alive-one and went to nudge them for greater emphasize but Alive-one backed up and clicked nervously. The red cloak tilted their head one way and then the other as they tried to understand why the living ancestor before them just couldn’t understand what a simple invitation to play was and - oh…

Alive-one was probably all alone and for quite a long while, not to mention that the other ancestors had been at war with one and another.

Did Alive- one even know how to play?

Chapter Text

That had been a few hours ago… and still Archways could not get the living one-from-before to understand what playing was. Each and every attempt at showing just fell flat on the-one-from-before.

It was like trying to get a wall to dance.

They were a good companion nevertheless despite that. Archways had no doubt that Alive-one could teach them many things as they HAD many things. Apart from the talking and the plants, there were rooms and rooms of various stuff that the ancestor had obviously hoarded/protected throughout the years and obviously wanted to show.

It would take a lot of time they knew, the pictures of the birds itself would take about the time to get to the mountain and back and then more to truly understand. Archways was giddy with excitement –the same kind as their very first journey but with more.

But it came with a little-known feeling. It was jittery and mind-racing and made their thoughts go blank. Archways wanted to explore every item and every nook and cranny right this instant and not stop until everything was explored and yet they didn't know where to start.

"Sun's gone down… Time for bed." Alive-one flatly said and began moving off to somewhere. Archways assumed something amazing and chittered excitedly after the ancestor. They shrugged the previous feeling off after realizing that they just needed to follow Alive-one with whatever they decided to show first. It was their place after all!

Alive-one stopped in their tracks, almost startled-like, before giving a short sort of note and changing course.

"Right, right, right, right! Other person here, small other person needs a bed too." Alive-one muttered to themself as they hurriedly made their way over to a particular row of plants. They were as tall as the ancestor themself and thin as a stick with a strange brown part at the very top. Alive-one reached up to one of those brown bits and began testing below them for any give.

Archways had no idea what Alive-one was doing besides lightly pinching plants with their cloak and thought it was… odd.

The plants, however, gave their quiet hellos and chatter like it was normal as Alive-one continued to poke around.

"Not many dry ones left… hmmm… oh! Thank you, the lot of you!" Alive-one tweeted as some of the plants pinged more insistently towards a browner patch of plants. "Perfect!"

Snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap, snap!

Archways looked on in confused horror as Alive-one snapped the tops off the plants.

And immediately gave a series of distressed tings.

Alive-one puffed out from the noise and immediately went stiff as a statue.

"Is there something dangerous here?" Alive-one whispered with a shake in their voice.

Archways simply trotted over to the snapped tops and chirped comforting coos.

All fell silent.

But only for a moment or two because soon the plants all exploded with their choir of a thousand chirps.

Were… were the plants laughing?

"Sweet skies above…. You thought I hurt the plants.." Alive-one dropped their stiff stance like a sack of rocks and huffed before turning away to collect themself. Archways could only stand around awkwardly as they tried to figure out what had happened, giving sheepish glances as they waited for an answer.

"This is okay, don't get mad, they didn't know, probably just their first time seeing a plant and what one does with parts of plants, that's all Last, that's all." Alive-one muttered to no one but themself. Archways gave a tentative ping as they watched the one-from-before whisper to the air. Alive-one peered over their slim shoulder with a worn look and nodded to themself.

"right, right… they ne- You need a bed… I'll show you what these parts are for." Alive-one said unevenly like their voice was fighting the mountain's storm. Archways stumbled after, still a little dazed by the events from moments ago until finally they were walking by their side.

But they dared not touch, dared not get any closer because unlike almost all other cases with an upset, scare, or nervous companion, Alive-one simply didn't like to be touched and they quickly understood not to; but it didn't mean that they didn't wish they could, the overlapping of cloaks and bursting light had always been a comfort to many.

Just not Alive-one.

"In here," Alive-one stated as they passed through a doorway. It lead to a long hallway, one that had been even longer eons before but the end of it had collapsed at some point. It had many other rooms branching off of it and Archways wondered what could be in all of them.

"This one," Alive-one stated again and Archways quickly followed them into the first room on the left.

Inside was relatively bare compared to other parts of the building, the only notable items in the room being two big slabs at opposite ends, a table, a small lantern, and another 'book' with lots of colored charcoal.

"This place is my bedroom and has been for almost two centuries. There's an empty second bed here that I'll set up for you tonight." Alive-one said as they made their way over to one of the slabs. Archways wanted to know what the slab was and decided to hop right up on top of it… Only to slip and fall into the hollow middle; at least it got a laugh that was more like a snort out of Alive-one.

"Okay, okay, please step aside!" Alive-one rumbled happily. Archways instantly climbed up onto the edge of the hollow slab. What would Alive-one show them with this?

Alive-one took one of the brown tops and gave it a little shake before bringing it down and whacking it against the edge. Archways hardly had to question why when the thing exploded into blinding light. When Archways finally blinked away the dark spots in their vision, they were greeted by a surprising amount of white fluff that was now laid in the basin of the slab.

Alive-one hardly stopped to let Archways take in the sight before they were doing the rest; by the end, the slab was overflowing with fluff.

"I don't exactly have the time to properly smush this down so nothing floats off, but it'll keep you cozy all the same," Alive-one stated with a wave of the now-fluffless ends. "I'll be right back, just going to put the seeds in a jar."

Archways glanced towards the ancestor as they left the room only to focus back on the white fluff. Immediately they were poking the fluff around, watching how the mass waivered with every touch.

It didn't take them long to decide to jump into it.

The plunge sent all the loose fluff flying and the subsequent flailing about in glee did little to rein it in.

When Alive-one came back, they were greeted with a mess. One bit of fluff lazily floated down until it rested on the top of the ancestor's head. They shook their head in disbelief before trudging over to the still playing Archways.

Archways didn't notice the-alive-one had returned until their shadow was looming over them.

"I hope you're going to clean that up." Alive-one deadpanned as they poked Archways with an excusatory foot.

Archways simply wiggled with excitement.

"It's bedtime." Alive-one forced out as soon as it became evident that the little red cloak wasn't settling. "You know… go-to-sleep-time?"

Archways stopped all movement as they stared at Alive-one. They weren't sounding practically friendly, but they couldn't place what was wrong now.

Alive-one simply sighed and turned away, going over to the other slab and stepping into the middle. Ever curious Archways peeped at Alive-one and promptly hopped out of their own slab and trotted over to theirs. The tall white cloak had laid down in theirs and had their eyes closed but they quickly snapped open as Archways leaned over the edge to look.

"Go. To. Sleep." Alive-one said with a truly unpleasant sound. They slowly sat back up and glared at Archways, but Archways stood there frozen.

With a huff of displeasure, Alive-one got out of their bed and herded Archways back over to theirs. Archways plopped back into their fluffed with hardly a ping, but still eyed the Alive-one closely; they hadn't the foggiest idea what Alive-one wanted them to do. They sat still, however, as the-alive-one packed down some of the fluff around them.

"Sleep." Alive-one repeated as they stepped away.

Soon they were sluggishly heading back to their slab and lying back down. Archways studied the-alive-one for several more minutes as they puzzled about this particular situation. Was this a type of meditation? A time to reflect on the day? Whatever it was, Alive-one wasn't moving much, only shuffling every once in a while. Eventually, Alive-one flipped over and was now facing the still-awake Archways.

"For the love of the Mountain, just Sleep." Was all they said before closing their eyes again and refusing to utter another word.

Archways gave one last quizzical look before attempting to copy Alive-one, lying down in that weird way and shuffling about until they were comfortable. They didn't close their eyes right away though and instead imagined the cracks and the lines in the ceiling being pictures or scenes in a story. They had made a whole tale by the time they realized that they felt that heaviness again. Archways gave a few slow blinks as they tried to fight the heaviness, but lost the fight quickly as they rolled to their side and nestled further into the fluff.

Soon they were out like a light.

But Alive-one tossed and turned throughout the night.

Chapter Text

Archways stood staring towards the entrance of the ancestor's home, contemplating. It was the dawn of the fourth day and they were wondering if it was time to leave. As the days went by, Alive-one got more and more prone to outbursts of impatience and frustration.

Archways wasn't a stranger to saying goodbye to companions whether it was at the end, smack in the middle, or even the very beginning of a journey. Some were participating in a race and couldn't stop for a hello, some wanted to explore at their own pace, and others simply just wanted to be alone to meditate.

Every time it happened, Archways understood and let those fleeting encounters be just that; fleeting.

But this was different, it had a lot more to lose if they left, not just for Archways but for all the ones-from-now back at the path.

Archways glanced over their shoulder to Alive-one, who was currently sulking beside the plants a good distance away, muttering something to the plants who in turn sang softly. As Archways got to know them better, the more Archways realized just how the war, and subsequent isolation, must've affected them. They didn't know the specifics but considering how their behavior vastly differed to any of the hundreds of ones-from-nows' they've met, well… something had to have happened.

And that Something had caused something to break in Alive-one,… but it didn't make them bad. A little unpredictable? Yes. Bad? No, not at all, as evident by the fact that despite getting more and more tense around Archways, they always backed off and went to cool down before coming back from it. Besides their meeting a few days ago, Alive-one wasn't actually hostile to them.

They recognized that, perhaps, Alive-one was simply not used to having a companion, especially all of a sudden after all this time. They had gone on for so long by themself that they surely thought there was no one left. But despite all that…they also showed a lot of excitement too. There was always something Alive-one wanted to show and things they wanted to teach. They laughed a lot, even if each one was brief, but they were genuine all the same. And their eyes would light up when they told stories, grateful for a listening ear, even if Archways didn't know half the words.

It was confusing to say the least and Archways didn't know how to help.

They thought back to leaving, to give Alive-one their space, but then come back so they could still have the opportunity to learn new things. However, the idea was quickly thrown out due to the fact Archways was doubtful they'd be able to find the place again. Not only had they nearly flown past it but it had also been covered over with sand, unseen, until the storm unearthed it. If it got covered back up while they were gone, it'd be impossible to find again. It didn't help that there wasn't any good landmarks that headed towards it, just miles of identical dunes. Perhaps Alive-one had a way, but Archways hadn't seen them leave once since first entering and was unsure if they ever did besides the occasionally peek outside.

Many ideas bounced around in their head but in the end they decided to stay just a bit longer; to properly plan things through, maybe get the right words to ask some important questions.

For now, they ambled over to one of the too-tall tables. Alive-one had set aside multiple spaces throughout the area with this one having an empty sketch book to draw in and a rainbow of charcoal to choose from. Idly, they flipped through the first couple of filled pages until they got to a blank one.

Archways thought for a moment and then grab some red charcoal – or at least tried. They weren't very good at holding the utensil with the edge of their cloak yet. There was a certain finesse that they just didn't quite possess and so they had to fiddle around a bit to try to get a better grip. While fiddling, they pictured in their mind what they wanted to draw. The first few pages were hardly pictures, mostly faltering scribbles with a vague impression of a thing or a person.

With a new idea firmly implanted in their mind, Archways gripped the charcoal as tight as they could and pressed the tip onto the page hard. They tried to keep steady but still ended up with shaky lines; at least this time it was going in the general direction they wished it to go. For almost an hour, they slowly and painstakingly scribble away, switching between red, yellow, black, and green. Just as Archways was about done, Alive-one had calmed down and had grown curious to what they were drawing.

Archways gave a short ping of hello but ultimately didn't push for much else.

"What's that?" Alive-one chirped curiously as they focus on the center of the piece. Said piece had two red cloaks bending down to look at something – reminiscent of the scene from the very first statue where four ancestors had bent down to look at a growing plant-like cloth.

Except this piece wasn't about being at awe of the power of glyphs and cloth.

"Plant," Archways simply said. "Flower."

"A flower?" Alive-one repeated. Archways waited for Alive-one to continue, it seemed they were thinking a thought or two. "And another person like you... was this on the surface? Where?"

"Pink sand, green sky." Archways answered with their limited, but also now stronger vocabulary, while touching up a spot as they did. "Close to Mountain."

Alive-one gave a small slow nod."I … didn't think any plants could survive up… there." There was a disbelieving sound to the ancestor's voice with a mix of… hope, maybe, as they trailed off into silence. Neither of them talked for several long moments, both of them trapped in their thoughts. Archway's mostly wondered about what Alive-one could be thinking as Alive-one stared off into space. Perhaps… they could take Alive-one with them? It wouldn't really give them the space they needed, but if they wanted to…

"Go to flower?" "Can you show me where the flower is?" They both said at the same time. They blinked at each other before Alive-one snorted a short laugh.

"Guess that's a 'yes'."

Archways stilled, just for a moment, as they processed that, yes Alive-one was willing to do this and that they'd be going back to the Mountain, finally, after this long week away. Nothing of fault on Alive-one or their home, but Archways was yearning to head back to theirs.

With barely any contained excitement, Archways spun around in a circle making all sorts of noises before bee-lining towards the entrance, leaving a startled but amused Alive-one behind as they followed after with a shake of their head. It was only when Archways had dashed out the gate and got to the tallest point of the area that they realized something very very incredibly important.

They could no longer see the Mountain.

There was a moment of denial as Archways spun around frantically searching in all directions, but nothing of the Mountain could be found; not a speck of its presence could be seen from its silhouette down to its calling light, not even the faintest of glowing could be found behind the clouds.

Had they really not noticed that they had gone so far?

Archways spotted Alive-one just as they left the entrance, slowly trailing after. Once sighted, Archways boomed out loud trills – not quite distress nor panicked, but certainly attention grabbing. Alive-one paused as they assessed Archways before giving a short ping back and quickening their pace. Archways stood unmoving as they waited for Alive-one to get closer.

"Little eager aren't we?" Alive-one asked. Archways simply responded by spinning around again and chirping rapidly, forgetting all words momentarily. It was only when they got confused silence that they sought out to use at least one word. Now they were spinning around going, "Mountain? Mountain? Mountain? Where Mountain?"

"Oh." It finally clicked with Alive-one. "You don't know how to get back do you?"

Archways gave a prolonged, sad fwee as they hung their head low.

"I was wondering if you knew or not… guess not." Alive-one said, but they weren't down-trodden like Archways had expected. "It's a good thingI've got maps then yes?"

Archways tilted their head to the side, confused, as Alive-one motioned for them to follow. Back at the entrance, Archways hummed with concern; had Alive-one changed their mind maybe? But their confidence was something of note. When Alive-one told them to stay put, it made Archways light up again in excitement.

Alive-one DID have a way it seemed.

Archways sat down roughly as they waited for whatever Alive-one would bring out. It took several long minutes but eventually they made it back to the surface with something in toll. It was made of something like cloth but thicker and with three odd scarves coming off of it. Two of them were long and thin placed on either side and one short thick one at the top.

"Now this, this will show us the way!" Alive-one exclaimed as they flipped a flap over and pulled out some rolled up paper and held it out to the red cloak. Archways grasped it, thought better of holding it with their cloak, and set it down on the sand to get a good look at it.

It was a lot like a tapestry, same style and everything, but it didn't seem to tell a story at all. On it was the Mountain set at the top and below it was the ruined city. These locations they recognized, but there were other places too scattered about on the gridded paper that they didn't. Another thing was that each location had a small glyph placed directly beneath them.

It was times like this that Archways wished they could read, they still hadn't gotten around to those lessons yet.

"That's a local map," Alive-one explained as they pointed out the locations. "It has the main city at the base of the Mountain as well as some of the smaller towns. We don't need this one at the moment since, again, it's a local map. Small." Alive-one rerolled the map and stuck it back in with the rest before pulling out another.

"We'll be using this one, as well as a star map if anyplace has been completely wiped from existence." Alive-one rambled on. "I've got a compass to point the way and a couple of other instruments in case we get lost. OH and I'm bringing some seeds with, in case there's enough good soil there for them."

Archways, as usual, didn't understand everything, but looking at the second map made everything make sense. Whereas the ones-from-now showed others locations by physically taking them there, this picture gave a 2D visual look of the entire lay of the land.

With a thrilled trill, Archways dance around in a circle stomping the ground in delight.

This was a perfect solution!

But then Alive-one's eyes grew dim and they drew themself up slowly to gaze towards the entrance of their home.

Archways deflated; of course this didn't mean it was going to be easy.

With a wavered cheep, Archways caught the attention of Alive-one, their own eyes dimmed down as well.

"No, no, we're still going, but I got to say good-bye first," Alive-one said, making themself perked up again even if it was hard. "Got to make sure my plants will be okay while I'm gone."

Archways watched them shuffle back inside while they waited next to the maps. They fiddled with the sand and tried not to let nervousness get the better of them. The several long stretched out minutes felt like the most unbearable moments in all of Archways' life despite waiting for longer with no problem. Alive-one would come back, they knew they would.

The instant the rusted gates groaned once more, Archways perked up and stared hopefully towards the entrance and was rewarded with Alive-one stepping out into the light once again. They triumphantly sang one loud note as they waited once more for the living ancestor to make it back towards them.

Once at the top, Alive-one gave a happy squint of their eyes before giving a loud chirp towards the bag holding the maps. Glyphs embedded into the odd scarves shone out in response before lifting off the ground and latching itself onto the back of Alive-one's neck, the thick one right where Archway's own scarf connected while the two thinner ones went to the sides.

Archways blinked as the straps turned white to match Alive-one's cloak; it was certainly a convenient way to carry things though nevertheless a strange concept to the red cloak.

They were so enthralled by it that they didn't notice Alive-one staring at a contraption they held, it was only when they turned to face another direction that Archways became aware of it.

"There we go..."Alive-one muttered but spoke more clearly after. "This way to the Mountain!"

Archways beamed with all the happiness in the world and soon danced in a circle again, chirping their heart out.

However, they quickly paused in their cheery chirping, paused in their enthusiasm for the journey to the flower, to see that Alive-one was stuck gazing back to their home again. They gave a tentative ping and yet Alive-one didn't move. It wasn't until Archways had moved close that Alive-one snapped out of their statue-like state.

"Sorry, I'm… always worried when I leave my plants… and that's for short trips. This – this is going to be the longest time I've been away." Alive-one explained. "Maybe this is stupid, going all the way over there to see a single flower."

Archways was having none of this, not now. With a loud burst of sound, Archways heavily exaggerated their excitement in hopes to stop the shift in emotions as swiftly as it had come. Alive-one was so startled that they froze right in their tracks and expected something more, but Archways just nonsensically chirped repeatedly and ran back and forth between the ancestor and the direction of the mountain all the while flapping their cloak up and down.

"Uh…okay… yeah." Alive-one dumbfoundedly muttered as they watched the smaller wayfarer. "Yeah.. they.. they will be okay and fine… and I got my maps… do I have all my maps? Do I have my compass? I… no.. no, no, no.. stop this Last you already checked ten times!"

Archways shook their head at the worrywart of a one-from-before, but at least they had started to walk in the direction of the Mountain. With an encouraging tweet, Archways flapped their cloak once and let the wind catch them and throw them up high.

"Uhhhhhh…You can fly… pretty well." Alive-one said in a trance as they were trying to calm themself down. Archways landed at the top of next dune over and watched Alive-one trudge up it far, far slower with a bit of concern. It wasn't a matter of patience on Archways part that concerned them, but whether or not if Alive-one would last the trek to the mountain and not chicken out partway at this pace.

Archway gave a curious pip and emphasized their cloak; they didn't know the word for 'fly' yet and hope Alive-one would catch on.

"Fly there?" And catch-on Alive-one did. "Sorry to say but I don't got no fancy glyphs to fly with. There weren't any glyphs left when.. when I left." Archways huffed quietly enough not to be heard. They knew that tone of theirs, and they knew that this was going to be a long walk. And yet they held it suffocatingly close to their heart that they must wait patiently as they'd always had for everyone else despite knowing the length of time was going to test their limits and all just to keep Alive-one moving forwards.

But Archways had never abandoned a companion in need before and they wouldn't start now.

They promised they never would.

Chapter Text

After several tries, Archways finally managed to pry open their bleary eyes to greet the morning sun. It had been six grueling days of walking until they reached the start of the Path at last. The only eventful things that happened all came from dealing with Alive-one, whose outbursts had become even more frequent and lasted longer without their space and plants to soothe them. Archways frequently caught them at night gazing back towards the direction of their home and a couple of times early on trying to walk back.

Archways stretched out their aching body to try to wake up some more but last night hadn’t been restful at all as what seemed to be becoming routine. The two of them had such a lack of sleep from all of the fits and second guessings that last night they passed out beneath the starry skies just before hitting the wind barrier that encased the path. It was far from being as comfortable as Alive-one’s beds and coupled with the worry that the tall white cloak would try to sneak off into the night it made sleep extremely light.

It was only after they blinked most of the sleep out of their eyes that they noted that it wasn’t just the typical heaviness that was making it hard to wake up fully, but hollowness. It had started about four days into the trip and had only gotten worse as time dragged on.

They almost jolted awake as they remembered to check for Alive-one, only relaxing once they saw the ancestor sprawled out right next to them, having not moved during the night for once. They knew better than to try and wake Alive-one up themselves, they’d just have to wait, but meditating wasn’t an option; they knew that they’d just fall asleep again. Instead, they rose up and continued stretching, even pacing about a little bit to work out the stiffness.

Eventually, their shuffling legs and ruffling cloak brought Alive-one back to the waking world, who also had to blink the sleepiness out of their eyes and stretch to fully wake up.

Neither of them really talked just quick simple morning’s greetings as the two tended to themselves.

Soon though, the two started on the last bit of their trek towards the Path with Archways leading the way. They didn’t need a map anymore as half-way through the fourth day the Mountain had appeared on the horizon, faint and distant but a welcoming sight all the same.

“Wind wall soon.” Archways informed Alive-one as they approached the edge of the Path.

“Wind wall?” Alive-one half-heartedly questioned. They felt like garbage and couldn’t really think well.

“Wind wall around Path. Stops less experienced being lost,” Archways explained. “Strong and pushing.”

Alive-one didn’t respond verbally, only scrunching up their eyes as they puzzled over the little red cloak’s words. Why was there some kind of barrier around this so-called Path to the Mountain? Who were the ‘less experienced’? The place looked barren of all life… no people, no cloth, no animals, and no plants; just long-abandoned ruins occupied the place. Were all the less experienced dead now? Is that why they left in the first place?

Their thoughts were interrupted because suddenly they were yanked off their feet and flung forwards, sand whipping their panicking, tumbling form. But it was an incredibly short affair and soon the two were in clear, sand-free air again.

“Misjudged where wind wall was.” Archways sheepishly tweeted as they shook the sand off of them. The ancestor didn’t respond to the little red as they fought down the surge of adrenaline and shook more than needed to get the sand off.

“Where..now?” Alive-one managed to get out as they searched feebly about, unable to get enough grip on themself to focus on anything in particular.

“There! Waving cloths!” Archways chirped enthusiastically, a smile beamed from them despite the tiredness. Alive-one squinted towards the direction the little red pointed to before switching to closing their bad eye fully in order to see the objects on the horizon. But what they saw made their heart sink.

The “waving cloths” were attached to two gravestones; a chilling sight.

But the little red was absolutely cheerful despite it and treated it like a welcomed sight.

“How morbid.” Alive-one whispered quietly enough to go unnoticed.

“Start of Path!” Archways said as they sped ahead, leaving Alive-one to start jogging after them despite their nerves. Archways surfed through the sands with practice ease, only slowing down for the struggling Alive-one. Maybe when they got to the bridge area they could stop for a lesson or two.

But for now, Archways began trudging up the dune as soon as Alive-one caught up. With each step, Archways became more and more filled with wonder and excitement, those feelings never having diminished despite the countless journeys. And here at the top of the dune next to the two beckoning graves with their strips of cloth waving in greeting, drawing curious eyes towards them to show them to the larger goal beyond, Archways closed their eyes and savored the moment. They bathe in the familiarity of the Path, of the calling light of the Mountain, of the complete relief and ease they now felt, to be home…

At least… momentarily.

Alive-one had glanced down the dune immediately, too hasty to pause for the brief but important moment. For them, the beginning of the Path seemed to start with a warning and not a call. Alive-one slid down the dune in sobering silence as they slowly wandered into the graveyard, a caught-off-guard Archways stumbling to catch up.

Archways watched with apprehension as Alive-one leaned down to gaze at a gravestone with downcast eyes before moving onto the next. This wasn’t new, Alive-one had been stopping at every graveyard they came across, and yet they didn’t know what to do. Archways followed behind the white cloak as they slowly wandered about to examined each stone.

“?”Archways pinged after a time had passed, causing Alive-one to startled out of their thoughts.

“Sorry… I’m just… searching is all.” Alive-one quietly chirped back the same answer they always gave as they straightened themself out. Archways cooed in response – in the back of their mind they recognized that these stones marked the final resting places of those who had died, but it was an impersonal affair for themself.  They didn’t know any of these people, who they were, or what they were like. But it must be entirely different for Alive-one.

“Who?” Archways asked, knowing deep-down that Alive-one was searching for someone in particular. They had asked before, but Alive-one never gave a straight answer.

Alive-one was silent for a long moment and they wondered if they would ever answer the repeated question when Alive-one finally whispered a wavering answer. “A.. friend.. I guess.”

“Who?” Archways repeated, hopeful that they were finally getting somewhere, as they slowly walked to the ancestor’s side. Alive-one glanced down at them but didn’t face them fully, instead, they peered down at the next stone in front of them as they spoke again.

“I.. didn’t catch their name… only their glyph.” They vaguely said as they looked away from Archways to examine yet another gravestone. “But… they did save my life.”

“Their glyph? Help?” Archways offered. Alive-one mulled the idea over in their head before shaking it.

“No… But thank you,” Alive-one squinted their eyes with a sad smile at the red cloak. “It’s a bit of a fool’s quest anyway and I don’t even know if they came this way.”

“Their glyph?” Archways pushed. Alive-one paused their idle search to look at Archways with an unreadable expression before looking towards the sand and nodding reluctantly. Their foot slowly shifting the sand until it read:

 Archways studied it for several moments, but eventually shook their head; they didn’t recognize that glyph from any of the stones… though perhaps there was one at the mountain with the symbol on it? The storm there made it very hard to actually get a good glimpse of what symbols the gravestones had so there was a chance…

Soon, however, Archways was struck by a lightning of revelation. 

They now knew the word for ‘name’.

It was too bad that they didn’t get a chance to ask Alive-one for their name because suddenly they gave a loud boom of surprise. Archways swiveled to where the white cloak stared dead-on and spotted the first glyph… or at least where the glyph would be if Archways hadn’t already grabbed it nearly two weeks prior. But they knew, they knew Alive-one hadn’t and could therefore see.

“Is… Is that a glyph?” Alive-one spoke in quiet awe as they kept their gaze locked on the ever-shifting glyph. Archways simply nodded and trotted up to it, stopping just at the base of the broken platform. Alive-one was still stuck in place as they looked between Archways and the glyph. Archways pinged and gestured for the unsure ancestor to come closer.

“I… I-I can’t take… that.”Alive-one stuttered. “I-I-I… I mean you should have it.”

“I did.” Archways stated plainly like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What? Excuse me? But it’s right there!” Alive-one blasted out their bewilderment.

“Not for me.” Archways calmly explained as they climbed up the rest of the way to show them. Alive-one stared at them with curiosity and suspicion as their eyes followed the red cloak up the platform only to be shocked when… nothing happened. The little red cloak was standing right in the middle of the glyph and yet it wasn’t being drawn in.

Alive-one stood in stunned silence, long enough that Archways was starting to get a little bit worried.

“Come up?” Archways asked, but Alive-one just blinked once and proceeded to wheeze out an awful squeak. “You… Okay?”

Though they still didn’t speak, Alive-one was now taking a few tentative steps forward, eyes locked and now thoroughly confused. Just before they were within reach, they abruptly stopped.

“H…How?”Alive-one quietly managed to struggle out. Archways could only shrug; they never really thought about it, it was just the way things were. Alive-one continued to falter as they rapid-fired off face after face trying to piece together a puzzle they clearly did not understand. All their subsequent sentences ended up half-form at best and single syllables at worst; if Archways wasn’t so concerned they’d be giggling their glyph out at Alive-one being the one to speak gibberish now.

“Up to glyph?” Archways offered again. They watched with worry as Alive-one puffed out tensely again and wondered if they were really going to have an outburst so soon into the day. Thankfully, that didn’t seem to be the case… yet.

“I can’t.” Alive-one’s cloak fell with defeat.

“You can.” Archways cooed encouragingly. “Everyone does.”  

“… Everyone?” Alive-one’s head shot up in surprise. “But… I thought everyone was dead?” Archways blinked a moment, to register the words, and then calmly considered them. They thought it had been obvious from the previous pictures that there were others like Archways but they guessed it didn’t come across quite right. They only ever put one other person in each picture despite them thinking about multiple people. Perhaps they thought there had been only one other who, for whatever undesirable assumption, was no longer around?

“Those like you, zero.”Archways clarified. “Those like me, many.”

“Oh.” Alive-one muttered under their breath and Archways worried about the tone, it sounded almost like… resentment, but it was too quiet to be sure.

“There are… Six like you.” Archways added. “Dead, but speak.”

“Ah yes… the six statues, the six messengers.” Alive-one emptied-ly said. “Was this one of them?” Archways looked to where they gestured. Just behind the first glyph was –technically speaking- the first statue, though Archways called it the seventh statue simply because they hadn’t realized until their third journey what it was. It was one that was broken, their top half completely missing, unable to offer words or pictures or to provide support up at the Mountain. But…

“Seventh… gives first glyph. Gift.”

Alive-one didn’t respond right away, but Archways saw their eyes lighten. They weren’t yet free of whatever negative thoughts ran through the ancestor’s head, but it was a step in the right direction.

“Even… for me?” Alive-one finally brought their head up to look directly into Archways’ eyes and what the red cloak saw made their soul ache. They looked so small right now and so very, very lost; Hopeless, and yet hopeful at the same time.

“Gift for everyone.” Archways softly affirmed, stepping aside to give the tall white cloak the clear go-ahead.

And still they hesitated, looking between Archways and the glyph unsure of themself.

But, eventually, Alive-one took a small step forward, and then another, and another.

Within several long tentative moments, Alive-one was eventually engulfed by blinding light, only to soon reappear as they normally did… well, almost normally. Archways gave a series of prolonged excited chitters and quickly searched the nap of the tall one’s neck for a little scarf. Only, it wasn’t there. The little backpack was still there and Archways wondered if the scarf got hidden under it.

“Look down.” Alive-one chirped with frail amusement. Archways obeyed until their eyes rested at the very bottom of the ancestor’s cloak. Small and tattered, there was a scarf - if it could be called that; from where it was placed it looked more like a stub of a tail.

“Not much to look at is it?” Alive-one mournfully commented on the pitiful state of the scarf.

“You have one, I have three.” Archways replied instantly while looking up to watch the little school of cloth flyers come down to show Alive-one how to fly. Instead, as quick as a whip, Alive-one bolted off the platform leaving behind a startled Archways who stumbled and fell off. The fall wasn’t a long one but it hurt a lot harder than it should have. The red cloak wheezed as they tried to recover and they wondered why they didn’t bounce back up like they always had before. A shadow suddenly engulfed them and Archways dazedly looked up to see an anxious Alive-one.

“Are you okay?” They asked with big wide eyes. Archways simply nodded and struggled to stand up, but had to rest halfway. As they gathered their strength back, Alive-one thoughts were racing one after the other in a battle of what to do. This was exactly the reason why they had wanted the little red cloak to take the glyph, they could see that their body had become a few shades duller and the light of their eyes noticeably dimmer as the days went by. But indecision of where to take the clingy child to top their energy back up had cost them time. Frustration built up again in the back of their mind, of their own indecision, of the little red’s stubbornness to travel so far away from the safety and comfort of their home, and then at themself once more for even thinking of being so selfish as to stomp on their excitement for this trip. They vigorously shook their head, shoving their wild emotions deep down in a too shallow pool, and instead tried to focus on a solution. 

The easiest solution was just to lean forward to try and give a light touch; it was a simple way of sharing the energy and they had seen such acts often in their distant past, even if by accident. But instead they ended up frozen a few mere inches away from contact. Their compassion drove them to help but all-encompassing terror held them back from doing so, no matter how much they tried to reason it off as irrational at this point. They were two hundred and fourteen years long gone.

“Are… there any other glyphs around?” They asked, only to quickly to amend it as not to come across as greedy. “For you, you look like you need it.”

“Need?” Archways tweeted in confusion.

Alive-one paused.

“Excuse me?” They finally managed to click out the question.

“Need… Glyph?” Archways repeated their question with a slight bit of clarification.

“Yes?” Alive-one said with visible confusion. How old was the little red one, now that they thought about it? Too young to realize that they needed energy to function and live but too old to be just born as evident of their flying skills, knowledge, and other ticks. It didn’t make sense!

“Yes!” They repeated after they realized they had been staring. “You don’t run on infinite energy! Look at you! Have you not noticed yourself fading away?”

They watched as the little red’s face switched from confusion to understanding in a flash. Archways felt a piece of a puzzle click into place that they didn’t even know existed. They looked down at their far more brittle cloak, felt that creeping hollowness deep within them, and realized something fundamental. All this time they thought the ancestors were fueled solely by greed after the last of the power had run out, that they were so blinded by said power that they went to war over scraps of it. 

But in reality, it seemed it was less greed and more desperation. They weren’t just fighting for power but because they were starving to death.  

“How did you not know?” Alive-one asked in a quiet tone.

“I… never leave Path.” Archways replied.

“Never?”

“Longest I’ve was away.” Archways shook their head before turning to watch the cloth flyers curiously. “They help?” Alive-one turned to where Archways was looking and nodded.

“They only give a little bit, nothing like a Glyph, but was it does help. Yet I wouldn’t -”

“Help you?”

Archways watched as the one-from-before stiffened at the suggestion and tilted their head in thought. Surely Alive-one had been feeling as awful as they were now right? When they were traveling they needed the energy too? Then why were they practically bristling at the mere mention?  It made their touch aversion much more extreme then, if they’d rather starve than touch another living thing. … Except now that they thought about it, it was also a two-way thing. Was it selfish, to not share? Or self-preservation, to keep oneself going? Or did others, way back when, use it as a means to steal another’s energy so they themselves could keep going?

Archways shuddered at the thought.

“Not now?” Archways said after Alive-one didn’t move or speak. Perhaps they shouldn’t touch the flyers either, considering everything.

“No… I’m good, that one glyph was enough.” Alive-one’s cloak sagged and they turned away from the cloth flyers. “Where to now?”

“This way to First.” Archways motioned with their head, starting to follow the trail of flyers towards the first statue. “And two more glyphs near.”

“You can have them.” Alive-one automatically said.

“Already did. You have one, I have three.” Archways repeated.

“Right…” Alive-one muttered sheepishly, watching as Archways decided to avoid the little flyers, a good indicator that there weren’t just three glyphs on this Path and that they could wait a little longer. All too soon the two of them were overlooking the ruined building that signified the true start of the Path.

Archways couldn’t tear their eyes away from the center where the first statue beckoned them forward with its light.

Alive-one couldn’t stop the pit of dread that was slowly yawning wider and wider as they got closer and closer to those dead eyes.

Chapter Text

Before the two went for the statue, Archways showed them where the other two glyphs were. They were incredibly easy for Alive-one to snatch, their height meaning they just had to lean forward to be in range to absorb them.  They still hesitated a bit with each one, but it was nothing like the first thankfully.

Archways observed as Alive-one inspected their now longer scarf, but as they squinted with aching eyes they had to ponder with a tilt of their head to the left and then to the right; was it just them or did Alive-one’s cloak look… lighter? It was still torn and tattered and far from the glowing brightness of the statues’ or even the more humble white of a white cloak but it wasn’t quite its usual dirty beige look either. Perhaps Alive-one noticed too as they continue to stare. Or, as Archways thought with a shake of their head, they were stalling.

“Up to Statue?” They pinged the question, causing Alive-one to startle. They recovered quickly enough but instead of answering right away they fidgeted and paced.  Archways dropped their head slightly for a split second before opening up the gates holding the little flyers captive with a single chirp.

The grinding of old gates at least got the ancestor’s attention.

“Climb or Fly?” Archways asked. They found it best to give options to Alive-one when they could because it always seemed to at least get them to move forward in some small way.

Alive-one eyed the flying scraps of cloth, internally debating which they should do. On one side, they still didn’t want to touch anything living but on the other side they really, really wanted to try out flying.

“Climb.” They said with an internal sigh; maybe later.

Archways nodded, ignoring the flyers, and simply bounded off the center platform and lazily glided towards the statue. Without any fanfare, Archways plopped down and waited for Alive-one to come join them.

It didn’t take long, as Alive-one only had to take a few steps to make it to the broken ledge and only needing one good foothold to get on top. But they didn’t take another step even as Archways activated the statue with a widespread chirp.

They were really doing this, about to take (at least in part) the pilgrimage to the Mountain. There were too many emotions running loose within them, leaving them overwhelmed and lightheaded. So lost in their own thoughts they didn’t notice how the rhythmic and insistent tweeting, chirping, and chiming from the red cloak had caused them to automatically walk forward out of their newly formed habit, and before they knew it they were face-to-face with the statue.

When they realized that meant they had stepped into the glowing circle their adrenaline skyrocketed as their vision faded to white.

Oh. Oh no.

They were not ready as the white gave way to a monotone landscape.

And they most certainly weren’t ready for when a person started to materialize into the space.

The Figure before them, a mere silhouette, had their head tilted down only for it to abruptly shoot up to level with Last’s eyes. Under their gaze, Last took a step back, the opposite of Archways’ step forward. But the figure made it up by taking their own step towards them just as Last squeezed their eyes shut and turned away.

‘Just a message, just a message, just a message –‘ Last shook and shuddered and prayed as they waited for their kin’s wraith they knew must be coming. They had heard stories, varying wildly, but most of them told about how many without the right ties had been turned away harshly for the simple act of being. Still part of them clung to the other rumors that they were just recorded words from long-dead people who couldn’t do much more than loop the same thing over and over.

Last forced themself still and listened, hoping and dreading.

“---“ The figure whispered, their statue too far from the mountain to have enough strength to materialize the words spoken; just the emotion, soft and soothing and oh so very comforting. Last couldn’t help but snap their eyes open, for shock and disbelief was strong in them, to not be punished by the people from their time for even the most minor of slights. Tentatively, Last glanced back over their shoulder at the person before them.

They could not see their eyes but the sheer waves of simple compassion commanded their full attention to them; to hear, to see, to feel as things were truly playing out. Oh so carefully, Last began turning back towards the First. They felt far more exposed than they had in a long time, they thought, now that they were facing the ghost fully.

The moment only lingered for just another second or two, before the First nodded and let out a large chime. Soon things played out as they normally did but now it was Last’s turn to see for the first time what many had before them. For once, the ancestor shared the little red cloak’s awe and couldn’t tear their eyes away from the scene, only shaking out of it when things faded to white again and they found themself back in the ruins with the sounds of birds ringing clear in their mind once more.  

And there sat the little red cloak waiting, patiently as ever.

Last couldn’t stop the misty tears spilling over even if they tried.

How could it be so? To be so forgiven so easily? By someone of the past who knew the horrors that had been? They should’ve locked them out, screamed at them, anything at all like how they expected things to turn out, the things that they had planned to counter and rehearsed in their mind over and over again and again. And to top it off there was their companion, the little red who stayed by their side despite the trouble they caused and the pent-up emotions they swung their way. Even now the little red sat and comforted them as best they could.

“You okay?” They cooed softly from afar. “Will be okay?”

“N-no…” Last wept as the reality settled in; It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it was never like this, how was it like this? They expected everything to crumble away at any second, any second now, to what they had envisioned for two long lonely centuries. All this time, as their hope dwindled to nothing, they thought they knew how things would play out if they ever found another person. There had never been any hope left after their old guardian had gone away of finding anyone else, even less hope for finding someone that cared. It was too much for them, despite the desperate want for such a thing, it was just too much. The little red shuffled closer as misty tears became a full-on fog that clouded around them.

“Will be okay. Always things better.” They softly affirmed as they sat and waited like they always have and always will.

They didn’t deserve it.

For who knows how long, the little red whispered and spoke soft words here and there as the last living ancestor sobbed their heart out until there was nothing left but little tremors and small noises.

“…I…” Last croaked out after what felt like hours. “I… don’t know if I’ll ever be okay.”

“Things will be different. Even things that are still can change and do new things. You just use to things remaining still for too long but look now at the change.” 

Last stared at nothing in particular as their latest surge of anguish slowly faded away. The words sank in slowly, first the puzzling out of jumbled words, pride at what was now the longest sentence their companion had put together, and finally the weak but the determined grasp they now held onto those words. Things had been still for too long hadn’t they?

Still, they took their time getting up.

But once they did the little red cloak was right there beside them.

They didn’t deserve it but it did fill part of them with a little warmth.

But before they could continue on they noticed their companion pondering something with that funny little exaggerated tilt of their head. They did it often, but usually not after one of their moments.

“Something on your mind?” Last weakly asked as the red cloak continued to stare at something.

“Word question.” The red cloak said without delay. “Word for… that”

Last followed where they pointed their leg at.

“The entrance?”

“What's 'entrance’?”

“Means like… a hallway or door to another place.”

“No… nonono. What’s the… the hmmmmm… the… word word word… structure! What's the structure called?”

“Structure?” Last eyed the entryway, did they mean the metal gate? But their eyes weren’t on the gate itself where it had slid aside but rather up above towards the top.

“The archway?” Last guessed before remembering to elaborate. “Arch means the uh curve up there at the top but the whole thing’s called an archway.”

Last could not have anticipated the excitement that came next.

“Archway. Archways. ARCHWAYS!” came the steady crescendo from the red cloak.

“Uh… what’s so -?”

“I, ARCHWAYS, WAS BORN FOR THIS!” They boomed as loud as thunder which in Last’s opinion, having been standing quite close, was not a pleasant experience.

“ow…” Last shook their head to expel the remnants of the ringing in their head.

“What your name?”

“Name?” Last startled. “Wh- what? How do you jump from architecture to names?”

“Archways my name!” the red cloak beamed with gushing excitement, tip-tapping their legs rapidly where they stood. Last stared for a second wondering how and why the little red cloak had chosen that name.

“That name is quite…” Last drew out as they realized that their first word of choice might be too inappropriate to Archways clear enthusiasm; too nick-picky, too blunt, too negative.

“Unique.” They choose instead, still honest but definitely not anything harsh.

“Unique?”

“Means like… one of a kind. Something you don’t see much of at least.”

“Would you unique?” Archways beamed at them. Last knew they meant it as a compliment, but all it did was sting. They were unique, weren’t they? all because everyone else… everyone else…

“Your name?” Archways injected after they only received silence.

“Last.” They said immediately. Unique because they were the last one standing. Last of a people, Last of a race, Last from an era of damned fools. They had hoped they’d be the last. They had dreaded it too.

“Sit.” The little red cloak tiredly said and Last obeyed. Don’t lash out, don’t lash out, don’t lash out. They don’t know, they don’t know, they don’t know. They tried to grasp at the words their plants, their friends, would say to calm them down but they were blanking and the straws were slipping out of their grip fast. Their gaze started to turn distant as their thoughts consumed them but the gentle brush of a single note chirp brought them out of it somewhat.

They slowly turned, gaze not quite focused on them, and thought some more. The little red cloak, Archways, sat a little ways away respecting their space but wary as well. It was their fault. All their fault, all their fault, all their fault. 

Another gentle chirp.

Yet they stayed.

They were tired, weak, and had every reason to leave. But they stayed. And stayed and stayed and stayed. Even when leaving would give every benefit they could think of. They stayed.

They couldn’t understand, they felt warmth and they felt cold and bitter and longing and defensive and trust and distrust and-

Yet another gentle chirp.

Safe.

They felt safe, despite all their emotions fighting over one another.

Safe.

They latched onto that feeling, and the gentle chirping, and willed the sounds to be those of birds in the breeze.

Safe.

After a time their vision cleared and they could focus again.

“I’m sorry,” They whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“No thing to sorry for.” Archways cooed and got up. “Go?”

“Yes…” Last croaked and slowly stood up. “Go.”

They shuffled forward, eyes on the ground, and they both made their way through the narrow hall towards the next area. Their nerves were still shaken but the sound of the little red’s pointed legs tip-tapping across the worn stone was soothing in a way, bouncing off the walls as they were.

And then there was another set of tip-tapping. Not their own, which made more of a soft slap, but one like Archways’.

Someone else was here.

 They snapped their head up just in time to catch a glimpse of another little red cloak running ahead of them.

“Wait!” Last called out as the stranger stepped into the light and vanished in its brightness.

“Hi, bye Nick!” Archways called out to a familiar friend.

.

.

.

.

.

In an untouchable realm of white and light, six identical figures materialized, five of them looking to the sixth expectantly.

 “It has been a long time since you call for a meeting.”  

“What have the new Rythulians managed to do now?”

“I don’t know how…”

“Oh boy here it comes, starring: something was broken in unexpected ways, part 205.”

“Shush!”

“…One of them… found one of us.”

The other five were swiftly stunned into silence.

“… excuse me?”

“Someone is… somehow… still alive. I don’t know how.”

“W-what? I-I thought we got everyone!”

“Doesn’t matter if we got everyone, the way the world was – is – anyone living outside the immediate range of a mountain should have died long ago!”

“Quickly, in what condition was the person in?”

“Bad… They have all the markings of prolonged starvation.”

“Were they just someone just born recently then? Maybe the Mountain has decided-“

“No… They were old… they must’ve been from the very last wave of our kind born.”

“Then how did they manage to…?”

“We will get our answers. They are making the pilgrimage, yes?”

“Yes…”

“That doesn’t sound confident to me…”

“I’m… not sure if they’ll make it all the way through…”

“What?! What makes you think that?”

“They were so… terrified. Here… look into my memories and see.” With that, they let out a resounding chime and the six watched as the scene unfolded. Two figures, two visions, side-by-side, one with the new Rythulian and the other with the old. And it continued after the two left the first confluence where the old immediately wept and the new tried their best to comfort. They were many things to unpack but a few things stood out the most.

“The red one doesn’t look good either.”

“They must’ve gone pretty far out.”

“Shall we strengthen the borders?”

“Perhaps… we did not know the new Rythulians would stray past a certain point.”

“Or perhaps we should prepare them? We knew from the start we could not keep them here forever. Clearly they are growing bolder in their explorations.”

“The world has yet to recover! If they go out now many will perish!”

“But perhaps… this ‘Last’ has a solution?”

“Explain.”

“They have a pack… what’s in it? Perhaps an answer to how they lived so long…? Because clearly it wasn’t through stashing glyphs…”

“…maybe.”

“We’ll need to ensure they make it to the Mountain then.”

“We can’t. It’s up to the one called “Archways”.”

“They still have to go through each of us though.”

“Modify your visions as needed then. We must keep them moving forwards.”

“Shall we dismiss?”

“Yes, but be prepared for more meetings to come.”

With that, the six disappeared from the meeting room with blinding light. The future was suddenly much more uncertain than it had been for a long time.

Chapter Text

Archways giggled to themself as they watched Last spin around in confusion. Nick had, of course, done their disappearing act as they always did but it was certainly a first for Archways to witness the ensuing bewilderment. The longer they looked at Last and their face the harder it became to not completely lose it. They almost did when Last got on their tip-toes and crane their neck and squinted their eyes towards the sun.

“W-where? There was someone there I swear! ” Last sputtered and then flinched as Archways double-over and wheezed. “I know you know too!”

Archways managed just a glance into Last’s pouty accusatory eyes before they double over again.

“Why. Are. You. Laughing???” Last said pointedly. “I know you know who that was! ‘Nick’ was it? What kind of name is ‘Nick’ anyway?” Archways fell over unto the floor and was full-on belly laughing now to the point it hurt. They don’t know why it was all so funny, because it really wasn’t, but they just couldn’t rein it in. And whenever they tried Last would say something and it would start anew.  Even when Last opted to just stop talking the face they made alone would still send shocks of giggles.

But eventually, they settled down, though they remained on the floor.

“Nick friend!” They exclaimed.

“Where are they?” Last questioned as they peered over the broken bridge’s ledge.

“Nick turn to light!” Archways croaked out as they suppressed another series of giggles.

“What?” Last turned to them with way too many questions in their eyes.

“Nick turn to light!” Archways repeated. “That what Nick does!”  Last sighed and tipped their head back as they questioned over and over again ‘why?’ and figured they weren’t going to get a clear answer just yet.

“And the name?” Last blinked tiredly.

“Don’t know who gave name but Nick like and now all call them that.” Archways explained with a big grin to their eyes. “Words can travel fast fast sometimes if very excited!”

Last sighed and sat down as they tried to think this through without getting a headache. A person named Nick who turns into light? What load of nonsense was that? What kind of person does – oh… oh no.

Was Nick a ghost? Long gone and dead?

But something wasn’t right. The way the little red spoke… made it sound like people could talk to them and regularly did so, like they were alive and well.

“What does… Nick… do?” Last eyed Archways with the best neutral face they could manage.

“Shows you are not alone.” Archways tweeted sweetly as they squinted their eyes happily.

“Shows you’re not alone?” Last probed, intrigued.

“Yes, at start it’s just you but now here you meet others.”

“And not Nick themself? Where do they go?”

“Can meet Nick… but cannot go to Mountain with Nick. Do not know where go.” Archways mood shifted slightly, an ache creeping in as they thought more and more about Nick and their role. Kind, caring Nick who stayed at the start to make sure you knew you weren’t alone. Every time with everyone they met no matter what.

But never traveling with anyone.

“But why?” Last pushed further, totally engrossed in the mystery.

“Nick part of Path.” Archways voice now dipped sharply from cheery to somber. Considering how sudden the change was, Last caught it near instantaneously. Perhaps this Nick was long gone and dead, but could still speak much like the six ancestors? But the part of Path bit… what did that mean?

“Part of Path?” Last quietly spoke, slowly scooting closer beside the red cloak as they stared blankly into the sky. The red cloak mentioned the ‘Path’ often, but some things said about it just seemed… off. They had to figure it out.

“Yes,” They said stiffly, any mirth left in them dissipating completely as their thoughts spiral into their theories. “Always there, repeating same thing over and over, that we are not alone. But when did they become part of Path? How? Were they first? Were they alone? They do not tell…”

“Are they trapped?” Last clicked in concern.

“No I do not thi… maybe? They seem happy when gibberish speak but go into oddness when we step in certain spot.” Archways admitted. They sluggishly blinked. They should get up soon; they felt like they might fall asleep again.

“Oddness?” Last questioned, wrapped up in their curiosity, but not enough that they didn’t swivel their head around on the alert. The little red cloak did say they wouldn’t be alone from this point on after all.

“Be in middle of gibberish speaking and then just… stop. Stand fast and do the thing they always do, over and over.” They said quietly, lost in thought. Something felt… wrong. They wiggled uncomfortably but found that they didn’t feel like doing anything more than that. They felt like they should though and tried doing a little stretch. Maybe sleeping sprawl out on the sand hadn’t been a good idea? They did ache a bit.

Unbeknownst to them, the light in their eyes flickered.

“Get Up!” Last screeched in alarm but Archways found little energy to flinch.

“?” Archways pinged in confusion.

“Stay Awake! Where’s the next glyph?” Last said frantically as they shot to their feet.

“But Nick?” Archways blearily asked. The distress in Last confused them greatly. Besides feeling a bit sluggish and a little uncomfortable they felt fine.

“Nick can wait!” Last all but barked but flinched at their own tone and forced it into something softer. “We need to focus on you.”

“Me?” Archways slurred as they rolled onto their belly so they could get up. As they tried to stand, however, the world tilted and swam.

“Careful!” Last shouted as Archways wobbled in place. A particular lurch forward had Last dart in front of the red cloak as they near-tumbled off the edge. Thankfully, with the tactful use of fanning wind towards Archways, they avoided a harsh fall.

“Is there a safer way down for you?” Last clicked anxiously as they searched all around but all they saw was a sharp drop. It was a short drop but they knew it would be painful if the red cloak attempted to just hop down.

“Bridge.” Archways tweeted weakly, trying not to pass out, and pointed at the broken structure.

“It’s broken. How would it help anyway?” Last shook their head as they eyed it.

“Yes, but little flyers… trapped in machines… make own, soft, bridge.” They now pointed towards the closest war machine with a large flag waving in the wind.

Last merely nodded and, trying to ignore the dread at leaving the struggling Archways behind on the ledge, jumped off towards the downed machine. They could hardly enjoy the glide down, so close to flying, as they hurried as fast as they could towards their goal. It was easy enough, a single resounding chirp was all that was needed, and Last quickly stepped aside as hundreds of flyers burst from their cage and rushed towards the bridge.

Sure enough, they formed their own bridge without any sort of command.

Yet there was no time to question how Archways knew.

Last gave a sharp click to catch Archways attention, trying to push down their fears as the red cloak hobbled towards the edge. They watched with bated breath as Archways slowly unfurled their cloak and, after an eternity, leapt off the ledge.

The glide was weak and shaky as the wind blew the red cloak far easier than it ever had before, and Last worried they wouldn’t quite make it, but Archways knew these winds well after ages of practicing there. Archways soon face-planted onto the cloth bridge which, true to their own words, was quite soft.

What Archways didn’t expect was the cloth under them to suddenly give and crumple.

“Get off them! Quick!” Last shouted as loud as thunder as they rushed towards Archways, who struggled to do so. Thankfully, the bridge itself was able to heave the red cloak off of them. Archways barely had time to register the damage done before Last was ushering them away and all but demanding to know where the closest glyph was. Fortunately, it wasn’t all that far. All it took was a few seconds of unsteady surfing to get to it.

Last watched with relief as Archways absorbed the glyph and the light in their eyes became strong as ever again. Though, they quickly became concerned once more as Archways shivered and shook.

“You okay?” Last tried to keep the alarm out of their voice.

“a-ah.” Archways squeaked as they faced Last with misty tears threatening to spill over. The sudden shock of what should’ve been pleasant energy instead stung every fiber of Archways’ body. They flapped their cloak about trying to dispel the highly uncomfortable feeling as the energy brought vitality back into them; prickly, static-filled, vitality. They felt panicked as to what had happened; surely Last hadn’t felt this when they got their glyph?

Last, watching with fear and confusion, berated themself for not getting them to the glyph sooner. They shouldn’t have ignored the signs for as long as they had. They had dawdled too long, they thought just being here they were in the clear, spent too long on their own problems. It was only by spotting the struggling light in their eyes that they were thrown back into reality.

But now they didn’t know what to do.

For the first time, their companion was the one who was in deep distress. It didn’t help that they themself were trying desperately not to panic as they squash down a horrid memory. They had to focus on the now, they reprimanded themself, focus on Archways.

But unsure of what exactly to do, they copied what Archways did for them.

“It’s okay.” Last cooed rather stiffly, trying to keep their fear out of their voice. “You’re going to be okay.”

“!” Archways gave a near inaudible ping with how high-pitched it was, tears now finally spilling over as they continued to flap their cloak frantically. Last clamped up, mind blank, as they watched in helplessness. They tried to think, tried to understand what had happened, but nothing was coming to them.

That is to say before they noticed the sparks of energy dancing across Archways’ cloak.

“Archways… Archways! Listen to me!” Last all but pleaded for the red cloak’s attention. “Copy me.”

It hurt to see their companion look at them with such fear but also with such trust, yet now was not the time for their own feelings. They could only hope that the trust place in them was founded.

“Here.” Last swiftly surfed towards the machine from before and Archways was quick to follow just like they asked. Last then slapped the machine with their cloak hard and kept it there and, again, Archways copied.

There was a sudden snapping crack of a sound and the two jolted at it. And yet soon enough, the little red cloak stopped trembling so badly, the last of the Glyph’s energy finally settling into them.

“Better?” Last asked tentatively, hopefully.

Archways gave a weak nod, trying to settle their nerves down now too. After a few long moments, though, curiosity came rushing forwards.

“What happened?” Archways chirped with a slight crackle to their voice.

“I’m… not sure.” Last admitted with a small amount of shame. They felt like they should know, but really they had only caught a glimpse of only one other glyph in their life before and it wasn’t there long. It had barely touched the ground before it was scooped up by someone else.

“Why not happen to you?” Archways inquired. Last had to fight back the unfounded idea that the words were accusatory; it was a very good question.

“I-I… I don’t know.” Last quietly muttered and, not being able to handle looking at the red cloak, turned away, ashamed.

“How do you not know?” Archways asked, some dread for the answer to it.

“… … A lot of knowledge was already lost when I was born.” Last answered with a simple and painful truth, a truth they deserved to know. They had tried so hard to preserve what knowledge there was but, due to the nature of the war, very little was left in the first place; including something as important to know as what caused this incident it seemed.

“You knew to do this.” Their companion pointed out as they mimed what they did moments ago.

“Not necessarily…” Last said and Archways tilted their head at this. “… I saw someone get struck by lightning once… and that’s what someone else did to treat them.” It was true, but they also left out the part with the burns and that it was more panic-fueled than an actual thought-out remedy, and the other bit that it wasn’t enough and the person had perished soon after.

Archways didn’t need to know that.

…

No definitely didn’t need to know that.

“Still clever! Thank you.” Archways tweeted with a happy squint. Last didn’t know what to say and mumble out incomprehensible words instead. Soon, silence fell over the two as they both tried to collect themselves proper. It was short-lived as, rather abruptly, Archways jolted -which made Last jolt too- before the red cloak scrambled up and away.

“The bridge!” Was all Last got as they too got up and tailed the red cloak. In their haste, the two had briefly forgotten about the damaged cloth bridge. Now they could really take in just what had happened.

Like a foul blemish on otherwise unmarred skin was a patch of pale withered cloth. The healthier joined pieces managed to hold it together, but it was clear they could not repair it themselves.

Without hesitation, Archways touched the damaged area and funneled energy towards it, to heal it.

Within seconds, the damaged portion was back to its rich red hue and a faint pleased hum could be felt emanating from the bridge. Archways was quick to offer apologies and just as quick to offer thanks to the bridge. Last… Last had a bit more difficulties voicing the very same thoughts but hoped the bridge could sense their genuine relief and sorrow for what had transpired.

It seemed so as the bridge relaxed and continued to hum pleasantly.

And after such an alarming and quick series of events, Archways suggested that the two of them sit and meditate. Last knew why, knew it was mostly for them, which made it all the harder as all Last wanted to do was to get Archways to the next glyph as soon as possible. Archways, however, insisted that they were good enough to wait a bit and that winding down for a second or two before moving on was greatly needed.

So now there sat Last, fidgeting and being so sure they were doing this wrong. They were trying, for Archways’ sake and their own, however, they still didn’t feel much calmer even after some minutes had ticked by. In fact, they felt everything but calm. The only thing that really went away was the adrenaline.

They had to remind themself that that was still good.

Last glanced over to Archways, who had a –somehow- content look on their face and Last wondered how they did it. Hardly even a couple of minutes ago they were barely strong enough to stand, had hurt something badly, and got a nasty shock. And yet in such a short span of time they had relaxed completely, with who knew what kind of pressing thoughts in their mind to boot.

 And here they sat unable to even get rid of their rigid posture.

Trying to puzzle it out, they decided to follow their gaze to see what they were looking at but saw nothing that particularly stood out. Maybe they were missing something? They squinted hard as they tried to spot whatever it was the red cloak was looking at. When they inevitably glanced back, unable to find anything, the red cloak was staring at them with that tilt of their head again.

Embarrassed, Last looked away. It didn’t really deter the red cloak at all though.

“Never did this?” Archways asked with genuine curiosity towards the flustered ancestor. Sure they sat with their plants to calm down, but it was never in silence. Their plants had always been whispering at the bare minimum and they would whisper back.

“… not really.” Last muttered quietly but eventually turned to Archways again. “How did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Just already be so… relaxed?” Last fumbled to understand.

Archways didn’t speak right away, simply eyeing the way the ancestor held themself and the expression they wore. Clearly, they wanted to follow through on the mediation yet they were still so tense. It made sense, on top of never really doing this proper, they only had just woken up and a lot of things had been thrown at them already. And that was precisely why Archways decided to stop and let the ancestor have some breathing room. But clearly the other was struggling to simply let their mind unwind.

“Made peace.” Archways decided to say, see where it went.

“How?” Last stared fully with pleading eyes. Once more Archways heart broke, for had Last ever known peace? Even amongst their plants had they been at peace?

“Reflect,” Archways said. “Things turn good. I am better, flyers better, said sorry, said thanks.”

“But it could’ve turned out so bad, what happens if none of you got out okay? What happens if the next time –“ Last was swiftly startled out of their would-be panicking spiral as Archways gave a rough click towards them. Last tensed up, Archways never did that and expected them to finally tear into them with nasty words. But Archways instead shook their head, eyes still brimming full and bright with compassion.

“But it did not.”

“But it could’ve –”

“But. It. Did. Not.” Archways firmly said. “I sat and reflect. Sat and thought. Sat and learn. What happen happen, I can not change that, but I learn from it.”

Last remained silent, sagging as they turned away from their companion, not particularly convinced. Archways studied this, softly humming as they tried to understand this reaction. They seemed to have closed up for some reason, they did not know why and had seemed to become very sad. It boggled their mind as their explanation had been very simple; people make mistakes all the time, but you can always learn something from them, it may take a few attempts but you’ll still learn.

“?” Archways pinged, hoping their companion would open up.

Last glance at them with grief plaguing their mind. They did not want to burden their innocent companion with their damned thoughts. Yet they knew that they would not yield until some answer was given. They never forced it, even gave them space, but ultimately they were always gently probing them for answers. They were much like their plants in that regard. They made the motions of trying to speak up but found it hard and remained silent as they struggled internally.

“Mistakes…” Last managed to force out but paused for a long while as they tried to collect themself.

“Mistakes cost lives.” They near-silently whispered, hoping that maybe the red cloak wouldn’t catch it.

“?” Archways pinged again. But Last refused to elaborate further and instead let their head droop and let their mind yank them away from the present. To them frozen helpless to the one struck by lightning, to them not being fast enough to save another from being crushed, to their first companion who… who… they wished they had stopped them.

They did not wish to burden their innocent companion with those thoughts though, those memories.

Nothing good came from them and they wished they could forget them, let them die with them.

The two remained in silence for a long time.

“Mistakes cost lives…” Archways broke the silence with a puzzled mumble. “Mistakes cost lives… before.”

“Mistakes cost lives… before?” Last mumbled back, puzzled themself. They wondered what that was supposed to mean.

“The before… it not like the after, today, it was more scary yes?”

Last pondered that for a moment and subconsciously took in the fact that nothing but wind moved in these ruins, through these last remnants of the atrocities committed, carrying a promise that these final resting places were truly final. Last doubted it would really stay that way forever but for now, it was quiet and nothing would spring forth with the intentions to harm.

“Yes.” They said without conviction.

“Then maybe mistakes do not have to cost lives now.” Archways said with plenty. Last remained silent, unconvinced, but how a deeply buried part of them clung to it. The louder part that suffered called it foolish, dangerous even.

‘Hush’ said the wind, ‘you need time to be still, to mourn, to reflect, to hope. Do you not still carry on because you still hope?’

Did they? They wondered.

They did not feel calm, they felt anything but calm, and yet, they supposed, they still hoped to be.

Maybe that was enough for now.

“I want to get moving.” Last said as they stood up, not waiting for an answer. Archways felt concerned, Last had clearly shoved the topic aside, but they let it drop for now. Perhaps one day Last will be at peace… No, Archways will make sure they will feel at peace one day.

“Where’s the next one?” Last said emptily. Archways merely responded by surfing towards the next – the one tucked away into what amounted as no more than a small dent in the cliff side. This one caused a slight problem for Last because of their height versus the tiny entrance but they managed to stretch their leg far enough in to get it.

Archways had no such problem but much like the previous Glyph, they felt that uncomfortable feeling in their cloak. This time it wasn’t nearly as bad and touching one of the machines fixed it right away anyway. But now they were curious too. So they stared hard at the ancestor, on the alert for any sparks of stray energy. To their surprise, there was some, but their companion didn’t react.

They immediately rapid-pinged to get their attention.

Last tensed for a moment as they swiveled around before they settled their gaze onto Archways. But before they had a chance to speak, Archways did.

“Do you feel it?” Archways questioned, confusing the ancestor. They merely pointed to the ancestor’s cloak which answered it well enough.

“Oh….. no. I don’t” Last said, stumped.

“No???” Archways clicked in concern. Last merely hummed in response and surfed towards the nearest war machine. Much like with Archways, there was a snapping crack, but this time to a lesser degree. Last flexed their cloak perplexed. They could move just fine and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Even running their cloak over the metal again revealed that their sense of touch was just fine too.

“Feel???” Archways chittered nervously to which Last shook their head.

“Perhaps it’s just my age?” Last said uncertainly.

“But should feel? Right?” Archways pushed. Last didn’t have anything to say to that and instead shrugged.

“Try stuff then, go to next glyph!” Archways exclaimed and hurried off towards the third and final glyph of the bridge area. Last chuffed as they followed after the little red cloak; they had quickly fallen behind as Archways sailed through the area with ease. They need not worry though as Archways plunked down next to a small swarm of flyers, which in turn were beneath the ledge where the final glyph rested. It looked so simple and yet could prove a challenge to the ancestor. After all, they still have never flown before.

They stood a few feet away from the flyers and eyed the ledge. They suppressed a twitch when Archways flapped their cloak and took off. With very little effort they had snagged the glyph and waited for Last to try to do so too.

The ancestor slowly spread out their cloak and gave a few test flaps. The flaps were nothing strong enough to activate their scarf’s power, but enough to try and practice some of the basic motions. Feeling some slight confidence that they understood the concept well enough, they gave one almighty leap and pushed through the air.

The rush of finally taking to the skies was cut short however when their chest met the ledge instead of their feet and they bonked off the surface.

“It okay!” Archways yelled their encouragement, “took me five tries when on first journey!”

Last huffed and spread out their cloak to try again when they realized a problem; their scarf’s power was down to 3 already. If they missed again… they glanced towards the flyers nervously.

They tested their cloak again, eyeing the ledge more intensely, and picked the highest possible spot they could. Yet again they leapt and yet again they bounced off the surface and fell. But this time when they hit the ground, they slipped and in trying to stabilize themself enough to not crash onto their back, they slid forwards and under the sandfall.

Last gave a chitter of surprise when they found the hidden crevice and chittered again in curiosity when they spotted the hidden slab. Their eyes left it momentarily as Archways entered but soon their eyes were back on it.

They knew, somewhat, what it was. They had passed many broken ones in the desert, either the slab itself had sustained damage or one of the activators had been lost. This one, however, looked completely intact. Their… Their mentor had told what they were and what they were for, but they had never before seen one that could, potentially, function.

They were yanked out of their thoughts when the little red cloak walked in front of each activator, all of them lighting up, and stepping back as a wave of golden light revealed the hidden image.

But for the grandeur of the lights, the image itself was rather unremarkable; merely depicting a city swallowed up by the sands. Last tried not to feel the twinge of disappointment of a slab showing what was hardly anything new and frankly they didn’t know why anyone would choose this image to preserve. That is until Archways piped up with something that made them pause.

“I wonder how many things below,” they started. “Buildings big but sand covers lot of it. If we dig, what would be found?”

Last blinked in surprise. Not for the actual words themselves but for the fact the little red had found something to be curious about in regards to the unremarkable, wouldn’t-even-give-it-a-second-glance, image.

Last merely hummed in response, not really sure how to respond to such musings.

Then there was a series of chirps heard and Last instinctively flinched and searched about before landing on Archways. But Archways’ face was scrunched in confusion and peering through the gaps in the sandfall.

With a heart-lurching panic-fueled revelation, Last realized that it had not been Archways who had made the noise. They hunched over, trying to be small, as they followed Archways’ gaze and peered out the minuscule cave as well.

At first, the two saw nothing, but then a blur of white streaked across the skies before vanishing behind a machine. It wasn’t long however before they were zipping back from where they came. To Last eyes, the scene before them matched an old terrifying memory; they look like they were searching, scouting, hunting for others, for them.

They were so frozen with fear that they hardly noticed the fact the white cloak was much too small to be one of their own kind. But when Archways gave a series of soft peeps and moved to leave the cave, Last lurched forwards and gripped the red cloak tight and yanked them away from the entrance, nearly throwing them with the force behind it, towards the far back of the cave.

Archways was completely and totally caught off guard, from the ancestor grabbing them, touching them, to the sheer overwhelming and seizing tidal wave of terror they felt through the split-second bond shared.

It had stopped as soon as it happened, but Archways was still left in the most intense daze than they ever have had before, fighting off the residual terror that was not their own. With determination, they shook the feeling off, violently so, and whipped their gaze towards the ancestor, who was clearly not doing well. They were wide-eyed, with their cloak trapped rapidly switching between puffed out to shrink-wrapped around their body. Said body was also pressed tightly to the wall, the wall furthest from Archways as their eyes darted from the outside world to the red cloak. And they were shaking so badly that Archways feared they’d unravel themself somehow.

Archways was dreadfully distressed for their companion, but they were also completely baffled.

Last had not reacted like this when they first met them.

What was different?

They shoved the question to the side and took a slow step towards the ancestor. The reaction wasn’t looking good as Last’s glassy gaze locked onto theirs as they tried to push themself further into the wall; away from them.

Archways tried their rhythmatic single chirps but it only put Last into an even worse panic.

They didn’t know the reason for this but they didn't need to. What they needed was to somehow calm the other down.

They chirped again, this time to a different tune. It was softer, quieter, a whisper that could scarcely be differentiated from the wind. They did not know the words they said, only knew that this was how the plants spoke when Last went to them for comfort. At first, it didn’t seem to do anything, but Archways knew better as the ancestor had at least stopped panicking further.

They would take as long as they needed to. They knew the white cloak outside would not bother them.

On the timeless Path, it was hard to tell how long this went on only that it was a lengthy process. And in the end, the ancestor was slouched over exhausted, and Archways feeling much the same but refusing to show it. But it was worth it and conversation was now possible if fragmented.

And what Archways’ learned from this was that the difference that caused such a dramatically escalated reaction to seeing someone new was that the white cloak was white.

They felt that it wasn’t the only thing, as they observed the ancestor nervously watch the white cloak circle the area.

“They practice flying.” Archways explained as the ancestor refused to look at them.

“Practice…Flying…” Last said disjointedly.

“This is good area to practice. Good winds, open air.” Archways continued, mindful of the ancestor’s body language.

“Practice….Why…?”

“To do Fancy flying, tricks.” Archways motioned for the ancestor to sit and they thankfully they did so.

“Why…?” Last repeated.

“Fun.” Archways offered simply.

“Fun…” The ancestor sighed. “, just fun?”

“Just fun.” The question gave Archways some pause even if they answered it swiftly. To them, flying had always been just for fun, but also the more they pondered the question the more they could pick it apart. If flying was used for anything other than fun, and considering the past held a dreadful war, it was clear that flying was an advantage. Something the ancestor before them never had.

“Will they leave soon?” Last shakingly croaked out as they kept their eyes trained on the zipping white cloak.

“Can not say. Some go on and on, some do few loops then stop.” Archways answered truthfully, watching the ancestor wilt. The two fell into silence, both watching as the white cloak continued to zip about.

That’s when Archways noticed something.

“The white one is not great flyer…” Archways muttered, loud enough for Last to hear.

“?” Last pinged. Archways internally grinned as they thought up a plan.

“Look at them!” Archways tweeted with an exaggerated gasp, “They fly against wind! Very slow!”

Last made a small, hollow chuckle, but Archways didn’t stop.

“Now fly too low! Look at white just miss dune!” Archways pointed out like there was a grander audience watching. Last clicked out another chuckle but with a bit more life to it this time.

This went on for as about as long as the white cloak was in the air, which was a very long time, but it was good for the two who had spent all morning going from one stressful thing to the next. Eventually, Last even joined in, much to Archways’ delight.

“The turn looked a bit shaky don’t you think?” Last commented.

“Yes very! Who taught them to turn?” Archways responded. In truth, they knew that the white cloak was no beginner and could pull off some great moves, spectacular moves even.

“But look at that dive! Such… uh such..?”

“Grace?”

“Grace! And Speed!” Like now thought Archways as the white cloak made it from one side of what they could see to the other in record time. Yet still, they weren’t quite an expert as the two watched them struggle to turn with their newfound speed.

“Left! Left more!” Archways quietly chanted as the white cloak zipped towards one of the machines, almost confident until they clipped said machine as the wind caught on them funny and sent them sailing until they face-planted into a dune.

“Ouch.” Last muttered as the white cloak rolled down the slope dazed. “Are they okay?”

“Yes looks like.” Archways tweeted but internally thought up a plan. Even they were getting a little antsy stuck in the cave and this plan could help move them along.

“But I go help anyway.” Archways said before they let out a loud ping, quick enough that Last wouldn’t have a chance to comment.

“Shshhh!” Last panicked as the white cloak got up and searched for the source of the ping. “What happens if they’re hostile?! Did you think that?!”

Archways paused for a second near the cave’s entrance. They didn’t want to cause any alarm but yet what better way to ease their fear than by showing them that the white cloak would do no harm?

“No one ‘hostile’ here.” Archways stated confidently as they strode towards the white cloak, leaving Last in the cave. “You can stay there if nice to you. Do not need to say hi if not ready.”

Last hunched down quickly, no time to argue, and hid as well as they could while still peering out from their cover to watch anxiously, trying to stave off another episode. But very swiftly they were confounded as the two greeted each other like a couple of friends that haven’t seen each other for years and who missed each other greatly. What was also baffling was Archways switching back to speaking gibberish as they chirped and spun around with the white cloak. They also let themself trip and face plant – which the white cloak copied and soon the two were just… laying there… until the two started to giggle and then abruptly spring back up.

The confusion they felt was enough to halt their typical spiraling thoughts fully. For now, they watched, observed.

Soon the two cocked their heads from side to side and eyed each other before they started to draw in the sand, occasionally pinging and chirping to emphasize some point or ‘question’. After a while, the two started to bounce up and down with joy and made all sorts of noises. After that was done the white cloak gave the slightest of bows towards Archways, which they returned. Immediately after, Archways sat, then stood, then sat down again. The white cloak nodded and sat down themself and stayed sitting as Archways got up and made their way back over to the hidden Last.

“?” Last near silently pinged.

“Not happen many, but meet this one before!” Archways tweeted cheerfully but also quietly. “They were two pattern cloak when first meet, white then as well. Thought knew more because I still had red but I show more things than they knew!” Archways rambled, as best they could anyway.

“So they were arrogant when you first met?” Last questioned a little too harshly.

“Arrogant?”

“Acting like they were better than you, superior to you, in a bad sort of way.” Last clarified, ruffling their cloak to try and ease some of their agitation. It wasn’t helping much and they inwardly scoffed at themself for their, maybe, possibly, unfounded aggression.

They had clearly met before and Archways was extremely happy to see them, as was the white cloak to see them. So everything was on friendly terms.

And yet…

Last shook their head as they focused back on the present.

Archways had pondered for a second or two, having not noticed Last’s internal emotional struggle this time, too busy thinking back on their first meeting with the white cloak and on their body language. It had been hundreds of journeys since they last met but they still remembered it fondly and clearly. Then they pondered some more on how to say what they wanted to say. They were pulling so many long sentences this morning and it was getting a bit tiring despite having just reenergized themselves on three glyphs.

“Not in bad way,” Archways finally said. “Wanted to teach, wanted me to get white cloak too, tried taking me to all glyphs but I showed I knew where each was and showed I knew more than that too.”

“Get white cloak?” Last let their curiosity take the front.

“It… like gift. Gift you get from the six if get all glyphs on Path.” Archways explained.

“So… you get a reward?” Last leaned forward to emphasize ‘reward’. “Yet you remain red?”

“Yes! I like red. Red pretty, but red make some… some… word… hard! Make some things hard.” Archways said, but faltered at the end but quickly beamed and sparkled. “But like hard. Show more skill, feel proud!”

Last hummed quietly as they thought over the little red’s words; the way they phrased it made it pretty clear that there was more going on than just a color change. They tried to rewind to how the white cloak flew, tried to pinpoint something different, but through the explosion of terror and one bad eye they couldn’t recall anything solid nor did they have anyone else to compare them to. So they prepared to ask the red just that question…

But before it could manifest itself, a brilliant white moved in the corner of their eye. At a neck-breaking speed, Last snapped their head towards the approaching person.

The white cloak immediately froze where they stood under the sandfall, a billion questions flashing before their eyes as theirs caught the ancestor’s ones. Last tensed as the white cloak blinked in disbelief at what they were seeing. They only tore their staring away from Last to instead stare at Archways, who looked defeated.

Archways could only sag as suddenly they remembered something crucial about this person… though it was easy to forget since it had been so long…

This white cloak wasn’t the best at staying still for more than thirty seconds.

Chapter Text

Today was yet another day.

The world they knew just simply didn’t change much even with its surprises and secrets. So of course they didn’t expect anything to be that much different as they practiced their rusty flying skills with great frustration. They made a mental note not to rest in the Mountain’s light for as long ever again if this was what awaited them each time…

 But it also gave them the luck to once again meet the red cloak who had changed their life and that was truly about as exciting as they thought it would get.

Oh, how wrong they had been.

When the experienced red cloak had asked them to sit for a moment, they hadn’t thought much of it, thinking maybe they were just going to set something up or maybe show them some fancy new trick. But when they retreated into the hidden area beneath the ledge glyph, their curiosity flickered to life. They were still betting it was some fancy trick or maybe even some newly discovered secret, but when they remained in the hidden area their curiosity soon flared into a blazing sun.

It wouldn’t be considered rude if they just snuck a quick peeky-a-do-da at what they were doing, would it?

They hoped it wasn’t but if it was then they also hoped they’d be forgiven for being too nosy.

So they tiptoed towards the entrance, hoping the sandfall would drown out the shuffling of their steps. When they got close they could hear them chirping away, very quietly, but still chirping away. To themself? To someone else? No, it couldn’t be someone else, everyone knew that you could only have one companion at a time.

But they were oh so wrong.

The second they had pushed their face past the sandfall they had frozen to the spot in disbelief.

A past-one, an honest to the mountain past-one. Raggedy-looking but still absolutely incredibly ALIVE.

How can one react to that appropriately? They honestly had no idea as they stared. The only idea that came to them was to look to red-life-changer for answers. But to see them slump and make an exasperated sound made them sheepishly shuffle in place.

Please forgive them for being nosy, they prayed.

They tried a couple little steps forward, just to get out from under the sandfall, but froze once more when the past-one poof out their cloak and stared them down.

Bad move? Bad move.

They awkwardly shuffled backward out of the cave, not taking their eyes off the clearly displeased past-one, and found a nice little spot to sit down upon away from all the uncomfortable staring.

They kept their gaze locked towards the hidden area unsure of what to do, as excitement was eating them up and being out here, left to their thoughts, only made it worse.

Where had the past-one come from? Where had red-life-changer gone in order to even find them? How had they found them? What happened to them? What were they doing here? Why did they poof? And a million other questions,

Plus one,

When would they come out from the hidden area?

They fidgeted where they sat and they tried to reassure themself that the two would eventually come out… unless there was some impossibly hidden crack that was just big enough to squeeze through in there that lead out somewhere else…

 They fidgeted some more as they tried to hold back their impatience.

…

Please forgive them for being so nosy.

And so it was that Archways had just about calmed Last down again when the White Cloak burst through the sandfall hard enough that the grains showered over the two. And it was also with great exasperation that Archways watched all their hard work with Last be blasted away in an instant because of it. With that, Archways decided they were far too exhausted for this, dropped to their knees, and flopped onto the floor.

They could see Last squawking as the ancestor realized that the red cloak would not be getting up to help anytime soon.

“Not. Hostile. Be. Nice.” Archways punctuated before closing their eyes.

Last forgive them but they needed a rest.

The ancestor could only stare in disbelief as their companion refused to get up, leaving them alone with the overly excited white cloak.

An overly excited white cloak that was chirping and chiming and pinging so much so rapidly that it only sounded like, “ ajgerwoahngwnron! De awoirhain legjirehsfnrelshorjllt, hroeysos k knrojse! agkejaoirebjnjGYEFVCHEGWFGRENBKFFNKDkkeaovnklraugajAJbakkneiwjbcachdiewovnlsaicjefnfeovsakcjeibrnbeinnckeei-!” and so on and so forth.

Last pressed their forehead to the stone wall to try to relieve the building headache as well to ground themself in order to figure out just where they were supposed to go from here. They didn’t have much time to clear their mind nor their panic when they felt an insistent poke on their back. The ancestor immediately jumped and whirled around, spreading their cloak wide threateningly.

Only to be greeted by a dumbfounded little white cloak who still had their leg hanging in the air and who had surrounded the two of them with a dozen hastily drawn ‘questions’.

It was dead-quiet as the two stared at each other waiting for the other to make a move. Last’s adrenaline was coursing through them, overwhelming, but Archways’ earlier words still reached them.

“No one ‘hostile’ here!”

And looking at this bewildered white cloak and all the innocent drawings that highlighted their excited curiosity…

Last didn’t see the eyes of a bloodthirsty warrior,

Or the scheming glint of a backstabber,

Or the pointed look of a snob ready with equally pointed words,

Or the snively excuses from a cowardly, disloyal ‘ally’,

And most certainly not the peering, scanning glint of a scout in the sky.

What they were looking at was nothing more than a child, a child whose knowledge only went so far.

Even though their mind was still haunted by screams, those screams, Last shuddered as they forced their cloak to relax and fall. They then scanned their drawings, so much like the first ones Archways drew, letting reality disprove their fears. But before they answered any of them they had to make one thing clear. In the sand they started to draw themself, hunched over, with the white one stretching out their cloak towards them. They quickly glanced up to said white cloak to make sure they saw their drawing before slashing the image through with a huge X.

 “No. Touch.” Last hissed. They knew that at the very least ‘No’ was in these tiny ones' vocabulary if Archways was anything to go by.

“No… Touch?” The white cloak repeated, testing the word, before gesturing towards Last, cloak stretch out before yanking it back. “No! Touch!”

Last nodded, happy the white cloak seemed to understand before checking out the pictures littering the floor. They were a little hard to decipher with how quickly they had been scribbled out but with how frequently Last and, presumingly, Archways were in them, Last had a good idea they were asking a lot of questions about them in general. The one they decided to answer first was the one that seemed to ask where they had come from.

With a single chirp aimed towards their pack, the flyers attached unlatched from their back and gently dropped the pack onto the ground. Last flipped the top open and pulled out one of the maps.

“This is where I’m from.” Last pointed to the symbol that represented their home. Last felt it was a little misleading as the image on the map was overwhelmingly outdated. It showed it as it was when it was still a grand bustling university and not something that had been smashed to bits so thoroughly that only the bottom floor and a small section of the dorms remained intact.

But considering that almost everything was in ruins… Last was sure that this white cloak wouldn’t have such high standards.

Last glanced up from the map to gauge the white cloak’s reaction only to see them wide-eyed with their gaze glued to the map. Last jiggled the map a little to try and snapped them back to reality but only got them to jiggle along with it, their face inching ever closer.

“Archways?” Last called over, perplexed, to the little red cloak who was still a lump on the floor.

“What.” Came the muffled reply, Archways' face having been firmly planted into the ground.

“What are they doing?”

Archways rolled over to blearily look at the white cloak whose face was so close to the map now that it would be impossible to read it. They didn’t have a chance to respond when the white cloak started to wiggle excitedly in place and shouting ‘This! This this this! Thisthisthisthisthisthisthis!’

 Last stared with a concerned scrunch, unsure what to do. Archways chuckled before getting up and joining the two at last.

“What do they want?” Last asked with clear confusion. Even when Archways didn’t know many words they had still been far clearer than whatever it was the white cloak was trying to convey. They felt dismayed when Archways just shrugged before attempting to decipher what was piquing the white’s curiosity.

“This? This map.” Archways started with, using their leg to make an invisible circle around the map.

“Map? Map! Map? Map… No. Nono. This?”

 Archways tilted their head to the side and squinted their eyes to convey their confusion to the white cloak.

“Not that. Is this?” The white cloak gently hooked the tip of their leg under the map and wobbled it. Archways tilted their head the other way before they got an idea of what the white cloak might’ve been asking.

“This map, from paper!” Archways chirped happily.

“PAPER! Paperpaperpaperpaper!” The white cloak exclaimed as they wiggled about excitedly. “Map from paper! … paper from?”

“Paper from plants!” Archways immediately knew what they were asking; what was the map and, subsequently the paper, made out of? And before the white cloak could ask what the word ‘plant’ meant, Archways swiftly drew the well-known image of a plant.

The white one’s eyes widen in awe but soon swiftly shifted into suspicion. They chirped at the map but the map did not respond to the call. They tilted their head, puzzled, and then turned to Archways’ plant drawing, erasing the dot on the bottom.

Archways nodded, understanding.

“Paper from dead plant.“

The white one made a face of many mixed emotions before scribbling out potentially what horrible thing they thought had happened. An ancestor, almost certainly a particular one in mind, was drawn standing next to a living plant before snapping it into two and turning it into paper.

“No no.” Archways shook their head earnestly. It was an easy assumption to make, one they made themself after they too learned what paper was made of, but an incorrect one nonetheless. They had soon found out that plants had a much different relationship towards death than those of cloth as it was just as celebrated as life. Plants, they learned, liked it when their decaying forms would turn into something new, something useful, either as soil or as something like paper.

It was a difficult concept to pass along via drawing, but Archways believe that they passed the idea along well enough. An image of a wilting plant amongst others standing tall and two branching sequels; one where their life sunk down to become the ground and the other where they beckoned the ancestor over to willingly become paper.

 The white cloak gave a slight tilt that showed their fascination. They stared a while longer while they pondered the whole concept. Then, like a light had gone off in their head, the white cloak snapped to a sudden thrilling realization.

“This from that!” The white cloak pointed to Last then to the symbol of their home. “Plant! Do plant? From?”

Last, throughout this conversation, was not so confident in deciphering what the white one wanted.

But… if there was one thing they learned was that when in doubt, tilt your head.

And that did the trick as the white cloak got to drawing. First with the symbol of Last’s home, then Last themself, and then finally plants surrounding Last.

“Do plant from that?”

And suddenly it clicked for Last. ‘Do you have plants there?’

Last was shameful to admit that they wanted to lie at that moment. They had spent so long protecting their plants that someone innocently asking if they had some just set off a whole load of wrongness. Once more they went instinctively on the alert, yanked back in time to when someone else had asked the very same question to… to their unnamed savior, their mentor. They distinctly remember them lying to that person, untrusting of their intentions. And their mentor had been correct to lie then, as later they found out that the asker had plans of finding and destroying every last plant they found.

“Last?”

What if it was happening again? Of words that sounded sweet and caring but really wanted nothing more than destruction? But even taking out malicious intents, someone could still be careless and accidentally destroy nevertheless. Even with no one being hostile here it didn’t negate the fact that this one was quite hyper and a bit clumsy. It didn’t negate the fact that they had promised the one good adult in their life that they’d watch over the plants no matter what. And no matter what included lying did it not?

‘But you let Archways come see quite carelessly did you not?’ their own thoughts reminded them. ‘so starved for company of your like that you dropped your guard entirely. All because of some similarities? All because you wished and wished and wished you could’ve saved someone long dead? And pretending and pretending and pretending that Archways is them and fantasizing you could’ve shown them the plants instead?’

“Last!”

‘They’re not coming back. You sat back and watched them get torn to shreds. And then you sat back and pretended some stranger was them. But no matter how much they act alike, they’re not them. They’re not coming back.’

“LAST!”

The shout of their name finally snapped them back to reality.

Somewhat.

They came back to disoriented, not quite remembering where they were or what they had been doing prior. They could hear an awful wheezing sound but couldn’t quite pinpoint that it was coming from themself. They couldn’t see past their own misty tears to see who had shouted, who had screamed. But they could feel the gentle murmurs of plant speech slowly wrap around them with a calm embrace.

That was then that they remembered where they were and who they were with.

But there was still the echoing of those screams ringing through their mind still.

Last clamped up. Those screams, their screams, they still haunted them so. Of those scouts and hunters searching for them… Last shuddered. But they were no longer in that time and place. They were safe and had been so for a long, long time. And most importantly…

‘I trust Archways because they are Archways. And this white cloak was nothing like those people.’ they mentally spat at themself.

But it still did not stop The Scream,

And then the silence, the horrible all-consuming silence,

And then the terrifying days after where they dared not move, dare not make a peep,

And then the terror of finally being found but too weak to move,

And then… and then…

“Last? You okay?”

And then the soothing voice of someone comforting a child no more than a couple of weeks old.

“I just need a minute...” Last managed to get out. Silence hung in the air for many moments but it would not last forever.

“It not just because of cloak color, is it?” Archways stepped closer to Last.

Last did not respond.

“It not.”

“…No it’s not.” Last confirmed reluctantly.

“Talk?” Archways tried.

Last turned away.

“Talk.” Archways tried more firmly.

“It’s something that can’t be changed… and I do not wish to give you my hauntings.” Last mournfully said, not looking at their companion.

“But your ‘hauntings’, they still hurt the now.”The red cloak forcefully pointed out. “White one does not know why’s of your actions. Sometimes I do not.”

Last hung their head low, silent.

“Talk.”

“No.”Last said rigidly.

“Talk.”Archways insisted.

Last resisted with more silence and stubbornly kept their eyes to the ground. The air was tense as Archways stared hard at the ancestor, mentally willing them to open up. But… but Archways had to admit it to themself. It had already been a long and difficult morning and they could already see taunt and tired lines on the ancestor’s face. To push more now could truly be one push too hard.

Archways let out a long sigh.

“Will stop now, but MUST talk later,” Archways said as they turned to the exit, passing by the perplexed white cloak. “No running.”

Once Archways had left the hidden area with the white one following shortly after, Last dipped their head low, feeling awful. There was some relief in not having to vocalize that horrible moment, a moment they had not even told others of their kind about, but Archways was right that their reactions were affecting the present and that they were the one causing a whole new hurt to someone else who, too, was innocent.

Last sighed as they got up to follow the two, blinking as they readjusted to the brightness of the sun. They didn’t move any further yet as the other two stood still, waiting,  with Archways looking at them expectantly. Last didn’t quite know what it was they expected at first until they subtly nodded towards the white one who looked at them with a mix of confusion, concern, and, most importantly, hurt.

“I… I do suppose I do owe them an apology…”Last reluctantly admitted. “But how would I “speak it” so they know?”

Archways nodded in approval before telling Last just how to do so. With a people who knew little in the ways of words, an apology was a complex thing full of unorthodox charades and abstract pictures. But Last found that the most unusual part of the whole thing was, after several low bows, fussy sounds, and ‘air hugs’… was an odd faceplant. Last recalled the two using it when the red and white cloak greeted each other but could not understand why it would be used now.

Apparently, it had a lot more meanings than they could ever hope to understand but in this instance it meant that one was remorseful for their actions and a sign that the grievance was forgiven was if the other returned the gesture, joining the apologizer on the ground.

Thankfully, the white cloak returned it and immediately turned chipper again.

Last was still thoroughly puzzled though. How the heck did this sort of thing naturally evolve into an important part of these smaller ones ‘language’?

They really had no time to ponder as they were ushered off the ground.

“We should go. “Archways said with a gesture towards the next statue high up but quickly remembered something important. “Near forget! Third glyph!”

“Ah… right.” Last looked towards the still unclaimed glyph high up upon the ledge with some nervousness.

They had run out of flight before they could get up there… they side-eyed the flyers lazily circling in place.

“Well I’ll just need to… power up my scarf a bit then try –“

“Scarf  has power?” Archways interrupted.

“Wha-“Last turned to the red cloak with confusion written all over. Of course, scarves had power! But then they thought over the wording a bit and instead inspected their own scarf.

Sure enough, it was filled to the brim like they had never even used it.

“Oh… how did it…” Last muttered out loud to themself.

“Touch and talk.” Archways stated simply but to Last it felt like a slap from reality. They had grabbed Archways earlier with the added poke by the white cloak mere moments ago. Yet… both contacts were extremely brief, not enough to fully charge even their meager scarf.

“Talk?” Last questioned.

Archways nodded and ushered the two away to give themself space. They flapped once, hard enough that some power was used, and then landed on the ground with no fanfare.

“Now talk!” Archways shouted.

“Does it matter what I say or?” Last unsurely said with stiff awkwardness. Archways huffed and scooted closer to the ancestor who had definitely not spoken loud enough for the sound’s energy to wash over them.

“Any talk fine. Gibberish too!” Archway’s confidently chimed. “Louder is more!”

“I just don’t understand how –“ Last started before they were stopped by the sight of Archways’ scarf regaining power. “Oh… well…”

“You never have scarf before so did not know?” Archways asked with genuine curiosity. Last shook their head in response. They had no idea that was even a thing at all but it certainly opened up Last’s mind to the possibilities of no-touch recharging.

“Let’s get that glyph.” Last smiled with glee.

It still took a couple more tries, but a bit of loud chirping and new understandings of flight, Last made it to the ledge and triumphantly claimed the glyph, gathering much enthusiastic cheering from both the red and white cloak.

Next came the new hurdle; the bridge. Last, though now much more knowledgeable when it came to flight, was still painfully a novice. To try using the chirp mention without ‘repairing’ the bridge would be all the more time spent in that area. But it was only when Archways’ demonstrated that when one went on the cloth bridge they more or less floated above it that they opted to use the simpler beginner’s method.

Much to their discomfort.

But in their relief of getting off the living bridge and finally moving onto the next area, they briefly forgot the final obstacle.

The second statue.

“It okay.” Archways reassured them as they and the white one lit up the activators.

“Yeah… just this last one…” Last nodded absently with a repressed shake to their voice. They decided to distract themself as the trio waited for the statue to power up, mostly by thinking about the white one. With no hesitation nor questions asked, the white cloak was now tagging along with the two of them. It felt like an incredibly bizarre situation to Last as the white cloak clearly had no idea of their goals or intentions. And yet with little warning they were now just part of the small group, glued entirely to whatever path they took.

Last stepped hastily into the light if only to banish the thoughts of how foolishly native the white one was to just join two strangers on a quest with no knowledge their new companions were even on a quest. Too trusting, too open, too… young.

All the more they were reminded of their first companion stepping out into the open with a friendly hello barely chirped out before pure cruelty struck hard and fast.

That had been their first word they had ever said and the last word they would ever speak.     

.

.

.

Pure bright light invaded their vision as the monotone landscape engulfed them once more.

Last tensed up and shut their eyes tight as the bright light shocked them out of their previous thoughts.

‘Just one more,’ they reminded themself as the light settled into something gentler. “Just one more and you’ll finally be where you need to be…”  

Last cracked open their bad eye to take in the place with a fuzzier edge. Once more a figure emerged out of thin air, but even with a not-so-crisp view, they could see that this one was not a mere silhouette like the first one was. This wasn’t great to know as now they could see their eyes, eyes that could be so full of anything in their turmoil and conflict.

But what they like least of all was something that even screwing their eyes close as tight as a knot could not shut out.

Their voice.

“Welcome.” The spirit of the statue said. It sounded awkward and unsure and that was enough to get Last to open their other eye and really look at the person before them. Of all the stories they had heard, all of them told of the elegance and wisdom of those chosen to speak for the Mountain. But this person standing before them, while holding themself formally, stiffly, had eyes that gave way their childish excitement. It was nothing like the sort of regal imagery that had been instilled in them from a young age.

“I wish not to be so forward… But I have only a limited time with you here.” The spirit apologized in advance as they gave a full bow to Last. Last merely gave a curt nod in return, eyeing the spirit in suspicion.

“Have the years been well to you?”

Last blinked in dumbfounded surprise.

Of all the things the spirit could have done, Last was sure they would have interrogated them and demanded things, not asking how they’ve been. Still… this could be a ploy to let their guard down.

“Not… bad…” Last cautiously said.

“But certainly not great either?”

“… no not really.”

“I can’t say I can offer much help here...” The spirit softly and slowly said. Last felt their middle twist. So a game it was then.

“And what sort of ‘help’ would you offer, if you could?” Last said with an edge-laced voice.

“Anything to make you feel better.”

Last quirked a brow at this, wary and unconvinced.

“And in return?”

“Nothing.”

Last inwardly startled at this in disbelief and outwardly twitched an eye irritably.

“Nothing? Nothing at all?” Last eyed them, ready for when all niceties dropped.

Yet that was something that would never happen.

“We may have tarnished and ruined our own futures, yet we the voices chosen for the Mountain by the Mountain vowed to do better for those who must now travel in the shadows of our devastating pasts. You are one of those travelers. You who have walked the past as it once were the present and forced to relive nightmares wherever you go. The least we could do is to offer something to ease your suffering, no strings attached.” The spirit mournfully said with pleading eyes.

Last did not wish to let their guard down, they had hurt too much before from sweet-sounding yet false words, but looking into those soulful eyes…

No bloodthirst,

No scheming,

No points,

No excuses….

Just sorrow and regret.

Last did not reply.

The spirit held their imploring gaze a moment longer before sighing.

“Whatever it is that has brought you here, I hope it becomes something wonderful.” The spirit gently said before turning somber. “Take my vision, a vision you know in far more detail than anyone else around today, but still take it. A rise of an age destined to crumble because its foundations were flawed.”

With that, the mono landscape faded away and the tapestry returned, continuing where it had left off.

Last could only watch distantly as it depicted the first of their kin building and powering the very first building. They felt something in their soul twist painfully. Their mind was not on the tapestry, though they tried to pay attention. No, their mind was still stuck on their kin’s eyes. Denial surge forward and yet nothing could truly dash away the truth.

The spirit, in the end, had not been playing a game at all.

“I hope it does too.” Last muttered near silently just as the vision faded back into reality.

Last sat in silence as they blinked the last of the visions out.

But there was no time to waste, their goal was just beyond this door and so Last stood up quickly and looked to their two companions. And with a small inward chuckle at their antics of dancing on top of the statue's head, the living ancestor beckoned the two towards the next area, a place of pink sands and green skies.

.

.

.

In a monotone landscape, an ancestor stood gazing at the spot Last had been mere moments ago, lost in heavy thoughts; so lost in fact, that they did not hear the approaching steps coming towards them.

“Āstigian?”

The ancestor startle out of said thoughts and turned to the source of the voice.

“Hello little Nick. It has been a while.” The ancestor, Āstigian, said with warmth as the red cloak rushed forwards and hugged them.

“It has.” Nick replied simply with equal warmth, but the ancestor knew them well. It had been a long while since they had stopped by for a simple hello.

“Something you wish to say?”

“Yes.” They said sorrowfully and immediately Āstigian knew what was coming next. “The old question.”

“Ah yes… unfortunately the answer remains the same.” They told them plainly and could feel them grip them tighter. They knew it wasn’t the answer they wanted, never wanted, but it was the truth and there wasn’t anything they could do about it but wait.

And yet…

“Ah but my dear child… the answer has more to it this time,” Āstigian lifted Nick’s head gently towards them, wiping away a stray tear. “Something –Someone- has been thrown into the equation and perhaps, just perhaps, you might get your wish sooner.”

“How much sooner?”

“I could not tell you as I do not know either, much like before; all I know is that it may be sooner.” They knelt down to nuzzle the top of their head. “All I know is that despite all the grievances that Last has gone through, there’s a light in their soul still that yearns to heal the world, and we will help them in any way we can.”

Āstigian finished their small nuzzle and gave a hearty chuckle as they saw the sheer determination radiating off of them. That was something that they were always delighted by, this new generation of rythulians and their compassion as well as their determination for all things good.

“Come, sit with me for a while. It’s good to enjoy another’s company and, despite all this sudden excitement, it has been a rather slow day. I do not think anyone else will bother us for a while yet and I’m sure you have some rather funny tales to tell as always.”

And so the two sat down to talk the time away, though Āstigian was a little ashamed to admit that their mind wandered at times.

And it always came back to one little moment.

They hadn’t meant to eavesdrop as they had when Last was… out of sorts… but when a young red rythulian suddenly speaks with a ding of a cattail, the thousand voice mutters of moss, plucking of many kinds of flowers, whistling songs of oaks, and much more, it grabs your attention and makes you wonder where they ever learned it all.

“The thing that has brought you here, I do truly hope it becomes something wonderful.” Āstigian whispered to themself long after Nick had left for the day. “So that I - we - can see those grassy green hills once more.”

Chapter Text

As the gates behind them groaned to a close, the trio found themselves in the next area, a land of pink sands and green skies.

Last hummed in thought, at how this area could look so much more different than the previous one, with only a single hallway all there was separating the two.

The white cloak skipped along, intensely observing the ancestor whenever they thought Last wasn’t looking, trying to piece together several puzzles. They were practically vibrating as they listened feverishly to every word said between red-life-changer and living-past-one though they knew not what was being said.

As for Archways, they had their own puzzle.

Last… was in the statue-spirit-story place a lot longer than either themself or the excitable white. The first time they wrote it off as their freak out affecting the length, but twice?

Something was happening behind the scenes that they were being left out on. And that didn’t sit well with them.

But what would happen if they brought it up? Last could, perhaps, explain with no problems or they could, maybe, completely break down.

It was hard to tell as the ancestor looked deep in thought, the only sound being that humming they tend to do when they do. But their face also wrinkled and shifted with their thoughts. The emotion across their features was tricky to guess, but Archways’ best assumption was sadness. Not the loud, explosive sadness mixed with madness or fear, but the quiet sort.

It could also very well be them just winding down…

But it also could be that something new was bothering them.

They felt lost on which path they should take. They thought being able to talk, to say things precisely, would make things easier to communicate to others with. But as they’ve found out it seems the opposite is true, that it was more complex than ever before.

They eventually decided that, for now, they would hold back from speaking up and instead focused on what was in front of them.

An old downed war machine.

The white cloak, in their same eagerness to teach as ages before, rushed ahead and chirped many short notes to grab everyone’s attention. When all eyes were on them they gave one loud shout, enough to revive worn cloth and open a rusty gate embedded in the old machine.

And out rose Longtail, a friend when one might not find others. They looped through the air, celebrating freedom from their cage, before swirling around the white one in appreciation.

Then they noticed Last.

They made a quizzical noise and stared.

Last gave a single ping and tilted their head.

Then, slowly, Longtail circled a wide path around Last; not once turning their back on Last.

Archways’ could only feel dread in the depths of their very being; Longtail did not trust Last, not one bit. Yet there seemed an odd calmness about Last. They, quite purposely, let their normally tense shoulders relax and followed the other’s wary gaze very loosely. When Longtail finally circled back to where they started, they gave another quizzical noise and gave a full-bodied tilt.

“I am not here to torment you,” Last said in the gentlest voice Archways had ever heard. “Far, far from it.”

Longtail was not quite convinced, not until Archways head bumped them.

“Longtail safe! Last wants to help!” Archways chirped cheerfully, forcing any tenseness in them to relax too.

“Longtail?” Last teased quietly yet still respectively gave a full bow towards the carpet being; who were they to judge one’s name considering their own? “I am Last and I come bearing a gift for the flower.”

Longtail gave an interested ‘ooah?’ as they floated closer to the ancestor. When they got too close though, Archways could see that Last could not stop themself from tensing.

“No touch! Last!” Suddenly the white cloak had leapt heroically between the two, much to everyone’s surprise. Last awkwardly coughed into their cloak and abruptly turned their face away, flustered.

“Last had bad time.” Archways offered simply. Longtail nodded in understanding before bowing low to apologize to Last.

“Thank you…” Last muttered stiffly. They had not expected the white cloak to jump to their defense like that, not so quickly at the very least. It just didn’t happen. In their experience, they had only really known their mentor to do that and even then that was after several months of traveling together before they truly stood up for them.

“Time! Time from this to that” the white cloak smiled brightly with their eyes before promptly marching onwards, leaving the other three fumbling because of their one suddenness to the next. By the time they all caught back up to them, the white cloak had already freed the next set of carpets from their prisons. Last and Archways both huffed in unison and Archways had to be swift to stop the white cloak before they zipped off elsewhere.

“Stop! To flower!” Archways said just before a carpet could pick up the white cloak and whisk them away.

“Stop? Flower?” The white one inquired. Archways quickly demonstrated their meaning by first spinning around in a circle before abruptly stopping in their tracks and standing still. The other was similarly easy to convey, a simple drawing of the flower was all that was needed.

“Flower! Flowerflowerflowerflower-!” The white cloak chanted excitedly as they turned on a dime and started their way towards where the flower was.

“Full of beans that one is…” Last muttered just loud enough for Archways to hear.

“Beans? Why beans in them?” Archways said, perplexed.

“No no, it’s a saying. It means they’re lively… like loud and won’t stay still.” Last clarified.

“… but what beans do with it? Beans do not run.” Archways replied, still perplexed.

Last didn’t really get a chance to answer that, no, they didn’t know why the saying used beans either, as the white cloak suddenly made a u-turn back towards them and surfed circles around them as they walked. Last tried not to flinch as they did so.

And all the while they were still chanting flower, unawares of anything wrong.

Longtail and the other carpets on the other hand, were delighted by the lively white cloak, spinning and dancing and bobbing around with them while Archways chose to match their pace with Last’s.

“Is it close?” Last asked hesitantly as the trio and herd made their way up another dune.

“Very close!” Archways said with a grin. “Two dunes all that left!”

“That close…”Last spoke to themself, faltering in their steps. Their nerves were becoming jittery as they now knew their goal was within reach, just over a couple of lumps of sand was all that stood between them and it. A goal they thought for over two centuries to be doomed and impossible. They craned their neck as high as it would go and scanned as far ahead as they could. But nothing yet caught their eye… and that worried them greatly.

The suspension and tension built higher and higher in them as they drew ever nearer and nearer. But the dread was rapidly creeping up on Last too. These pink sands and green skies had shown themselves to be nothing more than grand expanses of nothingness outside of a few rusting machines and crumbling structures. Unless this flower was shielded by one of those structures or old machines, there wasn’t much hope for anything good.

But to their dismay, as they looked down from up top of the last dune, there rested a yellow flower wedged in at the bottom of it between two other dunes; caught between nothing but sand. No structure, No soil, No nothing, not even a drop of water.

And yet… the flower still bloomed.

Out here in an unforgiving desert, this flower shone on with brilliance and vibrancy.

An Impossibility.

But there it was and they watched as the two small cloaks with their herd of carpets eagerly surfed to greet it.

Last almost thought it a shared mirage, perhaps, but when the flower gave a light airy note of greetings itself… well clearly it was there and alive. Both small cloaks could clearly interact with the flower too, little bursts of energy from their voices causing the flower to shine all the brighter.

Last shakingly tried to steady themself before they slid down the dune to join the group.

Immediately, the flower stopped in its little giggles and light plucking notes.

“Oh… it’s been an age since I last met one of your kind.” The flower said quietly, curiously, to themself.

“And I’ve never seen a flower quite like you.” Last spoke back in the language of plants.

“Oh! Even longer than that since I met one who speaks like me!” The flower sang its surprise and delight. “Tell me, to one who speaks so well, while you may not have seen one of my kind, have you perhaps know of others living?”

“I have, and they’re all safe and sound.” Last affirmed as the flower swayed slowly side to side in excitement. “And I’ve actually brought some seeds with me.”

“Seeds! You brought Seeds! Longest more since I’ve beheld a single seed!” The Flower shouted as loud as one such as itself could. “I wish to see! Once I see I hope them safe travel! Where shall you take them?”

Last grew quiet, looking away momentarily with heavy heartiness.

“I had… hoped to plant them here but…”

“Ah… oh… oh that would’ve been delightful… if you could.” The flower wilted.

“Yeah, it would’ve… May I ask how you’ve survived here?”

“Ah,  I was -am- a special case. The Mountain wills it you see.”

“?” This caught Last’s attention and they pinged a note for the flower to continue.

“I need not water nor protection from the sands as my roots are intertwined with her light, drawing directly from her strength, as weak as it has gotten it still shines strong.”

“Has it gotten so weak it can only support one plant?” Last questioned, doubting the flowers words about the Mountain.

“Well… yes AND no.” The flower said, swaying from one side to the other. “She is using her light for many other things.”

“What things? What could be more important than letting the land recover?” Last scrunched their face in frustration.

“For the young ones to understand.”

Last blinked and their anger slipped from their features. They turned and looked at the two small cloaks. They hadn’t yet uttered a single peep since this whole conversation started. Archways looked patient as ever while the white one messed with the sand around them though respectfully quiet. Last turned back to the flower and waited for them to continue.

“The Mountain… She grieves much. She loves and loves and loves, but never in her long life could she understand how things had turned so sour so quickly.”

“Why… why make more then?” Last spoke with near silence. “We more or less destroyed her world.”

“Yes… yes.. that is true. But she loves and loves and loves. She wants to do this right this time. The old ones, those who grieve with her, want to do it right with her.”

Last didn’t reply as they thought back to the spirit in the previous area. How they pleaded with their eyes and their words for Last to become better, to feel better, and…

“I feel you feel the same, to do better for the world, you would not come with seeds if you hadn’t.” The flower plucked thoughtfully.

“I… I don’t know how. I thought coming here, to you I could… just.. Finally, DO something.”

“Ah.. I know you feel the stings of failure –“

“It’s MORE than failure. It’s hopeless! NOTHING changes with this! There’s nothing I can do!” Last's voice crackled in despair and rage. They felt little prickles at the edges of their eyes, tears wanting to spill over, but they had cried too much too fully already today and nothing came of it.

The flower for their part watched closely and plucked a note in thought.

“Hmm… this grief of yours feels… personal.” The flower commented.

“Grief is always personal, what of it?” Last hissed as they rubbed at their irritated eyes.

“Yes… and no. The world falling as it had is a shared grief but you sound… like you let someone down perhaps?”

Last made no reply, making more of a fuss with their eyes in hopes the flower might drop this trail of thought and conversation. But alas, the flower did not, instead forging ahead. Though what they said next had Last grinding to a halt.

“You remind me very much of someone else.” The flower said. “So passionate! So Compassionate! Wanted to save the world all by their lonesome! Silly thing!”

“SILLY?” Last grounded out.

“Yes! Silly silly! What can just one person do for the entire world? Could have all the time in the world but the world knows they could never touch each corner. Passionate, Compassionate, but Desperate and Skittish! Wouldn’t let one person near them!” The Flower regaled. “Ah! But you’re doing much better! You have two near you do you not?”

“I- Well- Archways is… somewhat.” Last flattered, rage and despair ebbing away for a time only to be replaced by uncertainty. “But I.. I just met the white one so no…”

“Ah but time gives chance for it, no?” The flower said before they giggled. “They certainly feel near to you even if you’re not quite certain yourself.”

Last gave a confused look before they glanced towards the two small cloaks. The white one had crept a little closer and was staring at them, ready to leap once more if needed. Archways did the same but from a few paces back, looking between everyone, clearly exhausted but very much ready to intervene if it all got too much.

“I… I’m unsure if that’s a good thing.” Last lamented as they vividly remember each and every moment that led to Archways’ looking so ready for collapse; all of it caused by them.

“Well, you better make it then!” The flower said. “Or you’re not getting much farther than that other fellow.”

Last didn’t say anything right away, lost in thought. There was a particular one that nagged insistently to be heard, shoving all the other ones out of the way.

“This… Person that I remind you of…” Last started. “Whatever happened to them?”    

“I cannot say for certain… they had passed through AGES ago, before the walls were put up.”

“The walls?” Last inquired. “You mean the wind walls?”

“Yes yes! But left before all things were set up, before time circled back over and over and over!”

Last paused at this. That sounded like it might explain some of the oddity that was…

“… The Path?” Last whispered to themself, but not quietly enough.

“Oh is that what the younglings call it? I always call it the Loop!”

Last mulled their thoughts over this for a while, not making a peep. Archways' innate knowledge of where the glyphs were, of where the carpet flyers were, of Nick…

Time.. loops here as the Flower put it. How many times have the flyers been freed, been thankful? To then be reset back into cages? Do they know? What of Archways and the white one? Is..

Is this why Archways left the Path in the first place? To be freed of this… curse? And yet they don’t seem to hate it here.

Now that they thought back on it… Archways seemed to even love it here didn’t they? Every ruin, rock, and even the glittery sparkle of sand… they look on at it all with wonder and awe.

“I think I see smoke coming out that little noggin of yours!” The flower remarked. And when Last snapped back to attention, they looked to the sky…

The sun had not moved an inch.

“Why, why do they continue to follow this path?” Last squeezed their eyes tight, chest feeling just as tight with tense emotions, too twisted together to pull apart, before opening them again to see the flower swaying sweetly in the wind.

“ Because they truly and deeply care about this place.” The flower whispered back softly, gently. “Because this place holds great memories of the travels they’ve had with strangers turned friends.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Understand what, per se?

“How can you bond so deeply as you say with a person you know nothing about?”

“Hmm hmm hmm! Perhaps you’ve forgotten the you who was new?” The flower mused.

“…long dead I’m afraid.” Last shook their head and looked away. A chime and a chirp too faded to hear clearly anymore still tried to echo in their mind, to be heard over the louder screams that drowned out all. “Very long dead.”

“Dead or just really really lost?” The flower plucked thoughtfully. “I think you just need to find the path again.”

But Last just shook their head again. They weren’t thinking clearly, too focused on the all-consuming numbness they were all too familiar with to try to.

“… Hope without hope is a hard thing to hold onto, but you are not alone dear Last.” The flower reached out with a leaf though it could not quite close the distance. “You have some mighty experts to guide you.”

Last whipped their gaze up and locked it onto the flower.

“How… do you know my name?” Last said was a mix of suspicion and poorly hidden awe. The flower giggled, sad and sweet, before they answered.

“Don’t be a silly thing like your mentor for me, okay?” Last sat there, floored and conflicted, and couldn’t get much out besides wisps of what could be sounds. They were here, they were here. But they also left… where did they go? Where did they go? Where did they go? Where did they-

“Well? Go on, get! You’re not gonna get much more done than they if you just stare for the rest of time!” The flower playfully snipped, causing Last to startle and mumble apologies as they rose to their feet. But as soon as they turned around to leave, they turned back again mumbling more apologies.

“Thank you for the chat… I suppose. But it would be unkind of me to leave and not show you.” Last said as they opened up their bag and tilted it for the flower to see.

“Seeds! And of so many!” The flower burst with joy. “Safe travels to you all! Precious things all of you!”

The herd of carpets, which had been idling about, gave their own roaring cheers as they spun loops in the air. Archways and the white cloak, too, joined after a second to register the sudden good cheers. Though it was cut short as the white cloak got curious about just what everyone was cheering about and tried to jam their head into the bag.

Last couldn’t really be mad though as Archways head bumped them out of the way and immediately the white cloak grew sheepish. Even managed a little laugh as said white cloak dramatically face planted in a show of sorry.

But a thought hung darkly over their head; what happened to them?

“One last question before we leave.” Last turned to the flower. “Do you have an idea of where they were headed?”

“Hmm, hard to recall just what they said but I do believe they were headed towards the Mountain, though they had been trying hard to avoid everyone. So many weary faces trudging up to that last great pilgrimage…” The flower drooped as they recalled their own distant memories.

“Thank you… again.” Last awkwardly said as they finally turned to leave for real.

“Don’t be a stranger!” The flower called after the group’s retreating forms. Last merely gave a small nod in reply before they all disappeared over the top of the dunes. The flower continued to stare in their direction. For all of Last’s problems, it had been a great age since they truly had someone to talk to. And now the sudden silence ate at them greater than it had for an eon.

They didn’t quite want to lose that.

“Oh oh silly lonesome me…” The flower chuckled sadly, but then an idea came to them. “Dearest Mountain, I cannot move as rythulians do, but may a petal accompany them?”

For a moment, there was no response, and they prayed that the Mountain was not in such a low state of mind where she could hardly be counted as existing. But soon in the sky, her light flickered brighter before flashing in brilliance for just one spectacular moment.

“Oh, joyous day! Safe travels to us all!”

With that, a single golden petal plucked itself off and took off after the group, happily twirling in the air.

Chapter Text

Thoughts whizzed by rapidly as Last set their eyes on the Mountain. They were here. They had met the Flower. They had left for the Mountain. They… failed. Where had they failed? How far did they make it? What had they learned? What had they not? A million questions zipping about with no answers to them, not here.

But there might be answers somewhere here.

They puffed up their chest as they marched on, determined and ready to ask those questions whether to the other spirits or to the Mountain herself.

They needed answers.

There needed to be answers.

But what would they do if the answers were not to be found here? What would they do? Where would they go? Would they ever find out what happened to their mentor? They knew whatever had happened had not happened well. They had not returned…

“LAST!” The two small cloaks shouted in unison, startling said ancestor out of their thoughts. They whirled around to face the two, old twisted instincts still screaming danger, but all they saw was Archways sigh in relief. With the slightest sheepish drop of their shoulders they realized that the two just wanted their attention. 

“Sorry, yes, what is it?” Last fumbled out.

“What flower say?” Archways inquired, craning their neck a little higher with ramp attention. “You did not put seeds in ground and now go to Mountain with… hurry serious sure steps.”

Last didn’t answer right away as they thought back on it. They… they wanted desperately to know what happened to them. But realistically, they knew this would be not for a reunion, but for closure. A haunting as Archways would’ve put it. No, they really should be focusing on pulling out their maps, plotting a course… but where had they been that had yielded no results? Yes, that was a more tangible and reasonable thing to ask for, something with more chance for answers. Then they could check other places they hadn’t been to and… but what if they had been on a solid trail and tragedy struck before they could complete the quest they had set off to? Questions, questions, questions-

“LaaAAaAaaST.” Archways whined with a low rumble, the white one mimicking soon after.

“Ah, sorry.” Last offered a quick apology. “I’m just… realizing that I… might… might not know…” Last trailed off and soon fell dead quiet, head tucked down as they tried to decide what to do, what to say.

“Need help? Talk?” Archways said, taking a delicate step closer. 

For many long moments, Last clicked a note or two, but no words would form it. With a ruffle of their cloak and a shake of their head, they finally managed something out.

“What… what would you do if… if.” Last tried then paused. They squeezed their eyes shut and ruffled their cloak again. ‘Just get it out!’ they screamed at themself internally.

“The person, the person who saved me. They.. they met the flower, they were here!” The words tumbled out and tripped over themselves like a flood before abruptly going quiet. “… they were here.”

Archways stepped closer, desperately wanting to hug the emotional ancestor tight. But for now they could only use words.

“The Savior, the one you look for, they mean lot to you. So what of them holds grip on your mind?” Archways tried as they craned their neck to look the other in the face. They knew they didn’t know the whole story, but Last’s Savior was the only one Archways saw Last searching for. They must’ve been very important, but then the two were no longer by each other’s sides for whatever reason.

“I… They’re dead, I don’t question it, but I want to know where they went.”

“Will seeing their grave help? Or make sadder?”

“… I need to know.”

“Need to know what? You speak far away. Does it do with why they left your companionship?” Archways said with more force than they meant to and tried to fix the mistake with their body language, but the ancestor had already turned away.

“Please talk…” They pleaded. For many long moments, longer than what they expected, nothing was said. Archways slumped with downcast eyes, and with a regretful sigh and shake of their head they started to turn away.

“I’ll be back if I succeed.” Last spoke before Archways fully put their back to them. The red cloak startled at first, but then gave an encouraging chirp to continue.

“… or I’ll be dead.” Last added with a choked noise as they slowly looked over their shoulder back to Archways. “Those were some of their last words to me, before they left. Left to try and save the world.”

All by their lonesome, the flower’s words echo.

A silly thing. 

A foolish thing.

A doomed quest from the beginning.

Yet perhaps only because they did it alone.

But of everyone, their mentor trusted only them with guarding the plants and to care for them. Just the two of them at the end. They could’ve waited together forever if they wanted, hiding away. Yet their mentor had been discontent with just waiting and hoping others would fix what was broken. They just didn’t trust any of them enough. So they took some seeds as Last did and left…

Never to be seen again.

“I need to know if this plan has a chance to work. And I need to know what happened so we’re not at square one if it is.”

“You think Mountain has answer?”

“Everyone always told me that great wisdom comes from it… but the stories I heard of the wise ones preserved in stone have proved… untrue. When they spoke-”

“The storytellers? They speak speak?” Archways jumbled and forgot their words as it hit them that they were not being blocked out. The relief and excitement that their turmoiled companion was opening up made it too unimportant to get it exactly right.

“Do.. do they not for you?”

“They keep simple, one chirp and piece of story, of past.” Archways said as plainly as they could. Out of the corner of their eye, they could see the white one was distracted by something in the wind, but this was too important to give it much thought.

“I guess that would make sense, to keep the story simple for young ones with little understanding of speech.” Last hummed in thought, clicking in between as they thought how to proceed. Archways was going to be curious about what was said and they found that it would be idiotic to keep their experience quiet. Then why was it still so hard?

“The first… nothing was said, I think they were too far away but the second… the second one they-“ Last huffed in frustration. Those eyes, those damn eyes, they locked their voice in place and only a warbling could squeeze through.

“Did they? Hurt.. you?” Archways said with anticipation, shoulders tensed as they gazed into the much taller one’s eyes.

“No.” Last said without hesitation and Archways worries eased immensely, but curiosity kept them listening hard. “They… looked and spoke with such longing and hope that, though I barely know them, I - I just. I dunno…”

“Connect! You made friend!” Archways abruptly cheered loudly with a flurry of thrills and cloak flapping, catching the other completely off guard.

“A- I whatta a fr - what?” Last sputtered indignantly. But Archways was hopping up and down and chiming so enthusiastically in happiness that the ancestor could hardly find it within themself to reprimand the smaller cloak for the clear mistake. But then the white one joined, running into the other in an explosive hug and an equal flurry of sounds. The two spun in dance for a bit, scarves getting tangled and light glowing brightly, even in the day, before they pulled apart. And Last was abruptly reminded why the mistake was not so clear to them, for the young ones had no war that could cloud such instant trust.

‘Foolish.’ That old voice hissed. 

Yet Last found that they wanted to refute, even snap at, the voice for being the fool before they stopped themself. 

They pondered that reaction as their attention drew away from the world. Fast trust was a foolish thing… but hadn’t Archways’ willingness to trust so quickly brought them here, into action? And they themself had also extended that trust quickly, quicker than what it should have been. It frighten them, sicken them, yet despite it they found themself protective and worried and-

But the train of thought steered harshly towards the fact that the ‘storytellers’, their new ‘friends’, had still been part of the war, part of the pain. They couldn’t find it within themself to throw fast trust to their kind as readily. Because that truly was the foolish thing to do. Yet… did Archways and the white one not trust the storytellers? And despite it, despite it all, of everything-

… they still cared deeply.

Not only deeply for the two before them, 

But also deeply for those that cobbled together a plan to guide them even after death, a death that had crept through them all long and slow.

“No not really a… a friend.” Last whispered to themself. By now Archways and the white one had stopped and looked to the ancestor with such beaming happiness, such hope-

‘You’re stronger than you think, it’s why I entrust you with this tremendous task,’ whispery words rang with clarity. ‘Stronger than even I. Goodbye, you, the last born of our kin, goodbye.’

Last shuttered a sigh as they recalled the last memory they had of their mentor, the last time they felt hope, before the march of time had gradually stomped it out.

Yet despite the cracks and the breaks and the pains, of sorrows and regrets and despair, things that the war sowed deeply into this world, hope broke stubbornly through the barren ground. They could see it in their dead kin, in the Flower, in Archways, everywhere they looked despite the odds. And all of them had placed their hope and their trust within them, a stranger to them all, no more outstanding than the rest.

“Last come?” Last was brought out their thoughts by the white cloak, a white cloak they still knew not the name of, was afraid to in case this arrangement was too fleeting. If they were to make true connections as the Flower said, to restore all that was lost, should it not start here?

“Wait.” The word came unsurely but gently.

“Wait?”

“Like Stop,” Last chuckled as the white cloak scrunched their face quizzically at the different sounding yet similar meaning words. “I want to ask a question first.”

The white cloak blinked in cluelessness at that, not understanding.

Not the face of a scout, nor snob, nor prick, or backstabber, but of innocent curiosity and befuddlement.

“Your name?”

“Ame- Name?”

“Last,” They pointed to themself then pointed to the little red. “Archways.”

“Name. Name!” The white repeated before their face lit up in excitement. “Namenamenamenamename!”

With a flurry, they got to work trying to find the words for their name. 

“This this! That that!” The white one pointed to Archways cloak and then to theirs. Archways first guess was ‘cloak’ but that proved incorrect as the white one shook their head resoundingly.

“This this, that.” This time the white one pointed to their cloak and Last’s, standing close to the ancestor, while Archways stood by themself.

“Oh! Color!” Archways exclaimed in understanding. “Red. White!”

“White! Whitewhitewhite!” They chirped with glee before they made a motion with their cloak. They pointed with both sides of their cloak towards their chest before throwing it outwards and up. They did this a few times but was met with two looks of puzzlement.

“Echo?” Last tried, one of many suggestions.

“Echo?” White-something repeated.

“Like.. ECHO! ECho, Echo, echo…” Last mimicked what the word meant but once more they got a shake of a head in return. After that one White-something drew their glyph in the sand.

“How about..? Last what word for sudden, force, out?” Archways asked as they puzzled over the motion and the glyph.

“Explode, surge, or burst.” Last offered, but then made a face. “Scratch explode out, I don’t think Whitesomething means anything involving rage or fire…”

Archways gave an awkward chuckle at that before moving on. “So what Surge?”

“Fast, electrical, a sudden move forward.” Last explained. Archways shook their head.

“It seems more uniform, in all directions.” Archways said, but the two double checked with Whitesomething just to make sure. Once again no, but now with a bit more of a frustrated shake than previous attempts.

“Okay… what burst?”

“Burst is also a sudden thing but it is a more uniform motion. It’s also tied to emotions, like bursting with joy, bursting out into tears, etc.” Last said and once again the two relayed the information as best they could to the other.

This time to complete and total joy.

“Whiteburst! Whiteburst! Whiteburst!” The now named white cloak chanted ecstatically, bobbing their head to their own rhythm. “Whiteburst! Last! Archways! Flower!”

“Flower?” The two uttered, confused, in unison.

“Flower!” Whiteburst repeated before giggling as something wiggled out from under their hood.

A single golden petal.

The two stared as the petal danced in the air in celebration before landing on top of Whiteburst’s head.

Archways glanced at Last with anticipation and winced at what they were starting to think of as the ‘bad mind time stare’. Eyes looking but not at the same time, where it seemed they were locked away within their own mind, locking everyone else out. But whatever could’ve come from this one would never happen as the flower zipped off Whiteburst’s head stopping just short of smacking into Last’s face. It was more than enough to snap the ancestor back to reality.

“Follow.” Came a single near silent whispery note. The petal twirled around Last in a show of good humor and happiness.

“Wait follow? As in follow us?” Last asked, not with suspicion, but concern. The petal bobbed in the air in agreement before giving a vertical twirl upwards.

“But it could be dangerous!”

Another bob.

“You could get lost!”

Another bob.

“You could be-!”

Three bobs each more exasperated than the last. There was silence for a moment before they all saw a dawning realization creep across Last’s features.

It was not a good one.

“Oh sweet skies above I could get everyone killed on this quest.”

The flower whipped in the air from side to side for a second before floating down slowly in what could’ve passed as a sigh.

“I could!” Last shouted with horror.

The flower whipped about again before making jabbing motions at the ancestor who tried their best to dodge them.

“The lands are inhospitable out there! We could all wither away before we ever got to the next mountain! There could be machines still active waiting in ambush! Not to mention deadly sandstorms that can tear you to bits! And-“ throughout their panicked squawking and ranting the Flower kept up the jabbing assault neither relenting in what they were doing.

“Next Mountain?” Archways interrupted. The two stopped at this before the Flower bobbed about excitedly.

“Um yes well… wait… did you not know of the other Great Mountains?” Last grumbled first before surprise sprung forth as they stared at Archways in disbelief.

Archways, for their part, shook their head and made a small nonchalant sound. Last stared with wide eyes before something dawn on them.

“You… were just wandering the wastes.. aimlessly?”

“Yeeees? I was exploring, was not clear?”

“Oh sweet skies…” Last closed their eyes and turned their face skywards. “I knew the traveling part, exploring, but aimless? No destination in mind?”

“Weeeeelll…” Archways drew out the word. It WAS true, though they had a goal in mind, that they weren’t headed for any particular place. Last’s slanted staring eyes were enough to get Archways to turn to the side sheepishly and look away awkwardly.

“You were very very lucky,” Last grimly scolded the red cloak.

“Was trying to find more…” They wilted under the ancestor’s intense gaze. Last blinked and very abruptly felt guilty. What were they doing? Archways, for all their experience, was still just a curious child who didn’t even know what sleep was when they first met a scarce couple of weeks ago. Of course that meant Archways wouldn’t know much outside the boundaries of this Mountain.

And they didn’t want to be the reason why they would cry.

“But… your luck is what brings us here, what brings me here, if not for you I would’ve never left.” Last softened their voice and almost, almost, reached out with their cloak to the other. Archways looked up, chin still tucked downwards with eyes on the verge of being misty, but said nothing.

Last froze mentally, but their cloak struggled upwards and towards the other. But it dropped like a stone eventually and fell back to their sides. A sigh escaped them as their gaze, too, dropped to stare at the sand.

“Next Mountain?” Whiteburst piped up. They didn’t know quite what was going on or just what exactly had been said to cause such sadness. But they could understand tone and they could understand that things between the two were strained.

They could also understand that something Mountain, that word ‘Next’, meant another Mountain. Archways hadn’t known about ‘next’ Mountain, Last was surprised they didn’t know and then… angry? Angry Archways didn’t know??? They knew Archways must’ve gone out of bounds of The Path to have found Last… Was Last angry that Archways wasn’t going to the next Mountain? That didn’t seem right… But Last regretted and Archways is still upset.

“Go to next Mountain?” Whiteburst added when they were met with silence. This should all be exciting, to know there was a whole other Mountain out there somewhere! Was it the same as this one? Different? Would there be other people there like them? Whiteburst always loved meeting new people! But here these two were with panic, anger, sadness, and all things not excited. 

They thought they really ought to be.

But they also could see that Last and Archways were here with purpose. Whiteburst had gotten just a glimpse of what else was in the thing that Last carried on their back besides maps. The flower had cheered when they saw it, strange little circles and ovals, but still rejoiced with such happiness. And they saw the way Last had probed the ground around the Flower and how they seemed disappointed and crushed. But hopeful all the same when the Flower had talked to them.

Those Circles and Ovals were important, they knew.

And Last was going to look elsewhere for some purpose with them, to another Mountain, which they continued to feel growing excitement for.

But right now they were marching to The Mountain.

The Path to The Mountain was supposed to be fun. You didn’t march, you surfed and flew. You didn’t go grimly towards the light, you marveled at its beauty and the beauty around it, around you. And you met people, people of all personalities, yet all those that traveled with you grew close to you. 

They wondered if Last, with their purpose, even knew any of that.

“To this Mountain!” They cheered with glee, even if they didn’t know what solemn words had been said just now. The Next Mountain could wait. Right now Last needs some fun, something that lights the way in darkness, something that brings people close.  

And the funnest part of the Path was just straight ahead!

Chapter Text

Despite the sudden, rushed scramble to catch up with Whiteburst once more, there were no panicked chitters to accompany it this time. Archways remained silent with eyes downcast as Last frequently glanced back but uttered nothing.

Last’s ways of words had always been poor, more or less. In fact it took them over six months before they ever made a peep to the one who took them under their cloak and even more until they could with the rest of the small group. And years beyond it still took rigorous work from their mentor to strengthen their voice enough to speak as easily as they do now.

But that did not negate the fact they were by far the youngest of the group with no one else their age. No amount of precise practice would ever make it up for experience lost.

The more Last thought of it, the more they missed their mentor, something they thought for a time that they had put behind them. They themself may not have been great with words, but they were always earnest and honest, and always at least knew when to reassure or redirect.

Last…

Last was lost on what to do.

To reassure or to redirect…

Or maybe some other third, fourth, or fifth thing one was supposed to do in these situations.

Last glanced back for the one hundredth time to see Archways demeanor unchanged from the last ninety nine times. To redirect or reassure? Neither felt right.

But maybe perhaps to be earnest and honest?

“I’m… sorry.” The words were too commonly spoken, but they knew not what else to say.

Archways perked a little at that but still didn’t look the other in the eye. But Last could see their face scrunched in thought. A million feelings raced by, almost all of them bad, but they remained in nervous silence, waiting for the blow.

“No.. no need but thanks.” Archways eventually mumbled out.

“I- you were hurt.” Last fumbled out but stuttered on whatever words were supposed to come next. Something of a more extensive apology tried to bubble up but their voice felt too tight to let it slip by and out into the open.

“But Last still right.” Archways replied and it hit Last hard.

“… you were still hurt. By me.” Last repeated. Archways finally lifted their gaze from the ground to see Last’s face, one that always held such guilt, fear, and sorrow. Once more it donned the three; guilt for actions taken, fear for something coming, sorrow… sorrow because they cared. That Caring, it was one of the biggest reasons Archways refused to give up and abandon Last despite the exhaustion that came with being by their side. They held Excitement at showing Archways new things, Happiness and Laughter shared with jokes told and simple Silliness common, and deep willingness to protect born out of Love. 

Archways saw a lot of the ones-from-now within Last.

But Last was lost; scared and so so lost.

So they stuck fast by their side so that they’ll find the path that leads them back to the light and away from the darkness that had clouded their way.

“Thank you… but still right.” Archways repeated back before adding on. “I had gone out without thinking of danger… how many like me were not lucky?” 

It was a harsh truth, and it had hurt to hear the dark tone directed at them, but it was true. How many had gone out looking for more as they did and found themselves weak and unable to find safety? When they focused back to the now they saw a face filled with conflicted feelings. Last’s face shifted and twisted in a myriad of ways without really settling on any one of them.

“I…” Last clicked unsurely, another apology wanting to fall out with instinctual ease, but they choked it back.

‘Thank you. You  should say thank you.’ Last internally snipped at themself as yet another apology tried to force its way out. 

But neither were unable to make it through because a sudden sense of danger had Last on alert. At first they couldn’t place it, but soon they could feel something had changed in the air, a sudden chill in the hot desert. And when they moved more towards the Mountain, the more intense the feeling became. They fell behind the two as their steps slowed but slowly they still crept on. They couldn’t see yet what it was but soon the danger became clearer through other means. 

The mechanical rumbling, unnatural wind, and dust suddenly blocking out the sun were clear signs before eyes could laid upon the danger that what awaited them over that final hill was something that ought to be avoided at all costs. Last prayed that perhaps their senses were playing tricks on them, as they sometimes did, and that what laid just beyond their vision was nothing more than a figment of their imagination.

But alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

A building shrouded in darkness loomed ahead, a terrible memory of horrors that which their kin had created, which very presence dredged up uncountable nightmares acquired in centuries past. The world around them bled into obscurity as tunnel vision locked onto the building.

 The fear drove them to try to shuffle backwards and creep away but instead they lost their foothold in the loose sand and slid ungracefully down to the bottom of the dunes and into the shadows of the old rundown factory. But there they stayed as terror froze them to the spot. Further still they turned to stone as their eyes confirmed what laid within this particular kind of factory. 

The ominous flickering glow of the War Machines paralyzed them, a rotating crowd of judgeful eyes staring down at what was merely a resource to them, of Last who had not been considered anything more than a bit of energy to be used and discarded. They needed to hide, they needed to hide, they needed to hide, they needed to hide-

But where? They were out in the open, the only cover being that of the factory itself, and so far they were lucky enough that they had not yet been spotted. The search lights had not yet passed over them but they soon would so they needed-

A loud echoing chime rang through the area and Last tighten their cloak taut around their body. Sheer terror shot through them. The noise would draw attention to them, you had to be silent, you had to hide, someone was going to die.

They didn’t even notice as the present group tried to talk them out of their statue-like state. Not even the flower zipping about in front of them could draw them out.

Whiteburst panicked the most, they had forgotten that before the fun started they had to pass through here. This isn’t what they wanted! But their voices and movements weren’t doing anything and the living-past-one remained rooted to the spot. They turned to Archways frantically looking for guidance on what they should do, how to help, how to get past this together. They didn’t want the terrified ancestor to be left like this!

At first, Archways looked only distraught and clueless, equally unsure of what exactly they were supposed to do, before determination born from deep regret flashed across their face. Whiteburst had little time to process that the red cloak had come to a painful decision before Archways lunged forward.

‘MOVE.’ Archways slammed into Last with all of their might, screaming that one word, that one command, through the temporary connection that intertwined cloaks granted. Whiteburst gasped aloud at the blatant breaking of the No Touch rule.

But it worked.

Last was moving now, frantically, yet still disoriented as they stumbled forward in panic. It wouldn’t be enough as Last was already starting to scramble away from the structure and soon they’d be back where they had started. Now Whiteburst dashed towards the ancestor, head-butting them in the right direction.

‘FOLLOW.’ Archways saw what Whiteburst did and aided them with a second command. It was difficult for the two, the pure terror coursing through Last like a raging storm wasn’t easy to bare even through the briefest of connections. But stubbornly the two kept at it, it wouldn’t be their thing to bare alone, shouldn’t have been their thing to bare alone. Last needed them right now.

It was awful, exhausting work, but progress was still gained. A nudge here and there, the two taking turns to make sure Last didn’t fall off open ledges, small commands to go around and up, up, up. But most importantly,

Do. Not. Look.

Do not look at the glowing eyes, do not listen to the sounds they make, do not let the air that escapes them get to you.

They will not hurt you.

They are nothing but a mere reminder of times gone past; an ugly one, an important one, but distant nonetheless. No matter how real the wounds had been, no new wounds would mark them here, no roaring mechanical beast to charge at them.

Eventually, they all took that last step to reach the top where the sunlight shone once more.

The three shook tremendously, tired and exhausted from the experience, even Whiteburst couldn’t find it within them to fidget –only stare at the ground as they collected themself.

‘Sit.’ Was Archways’ final command as they sank to the ground. The ancestor did so without a word but though they listened and obeyed, they were not present. The eyes stared, blinked, and continued to stare but they stared at nothing but a wall. Not at the statue that gleamed in the sun or the ruined city just beyond nor at the curious carpets that waited patiently below rusted gates. Archways slouched and tucked their head down into the folds of their cloak. They yearned for sleep, a chance to not think for a bit and perhaps awaken refreshed, and of the comfort of the soft bed Last had given them. A worried chitter from Whiteburst reminded them that the journey was not yet over, that sleep needed to wait.

“Wait… for little.” Archways tiredly mumbled, hoping that perhaps Last just needed a second to process everything as the rest did too. But… Last didn’t know how to meditate, to sit still and enjoy, to marvel at the world around you with another at your side, to know peace. They did not know those things that the ones-from-now knew by heart.

Still they prayed they would.

And when they didn’t… Archways promised they’d never leave a companion of theirs behind no matter what.

With a shuddering sigh, Archways started to speak – speak as the plants did. Whispery and light, words carried on a breeze, with plucks and chimes and tings. They did not know the words for it was trickier to understand, the words so light and simple that they blended together. It usually worked, Last far more comfortable with them than that of their kin, and the only language they had spoken in for who knows how long.

But…

It didn’t this time.

Last continued to stare unseeing.

Archways’ soul sank. Their words petered off as they continued to receive no reaction. They stared at them, unsure what to do, they did not wish to subject the other to more touch. They were only halfway through the Path, the easiest part of it, but they had already been through too much. Silence surrounded them, the grinding and clattering of machinery feeling almost nonexistent, as Archways reflected.

The last time they had ever even come this close to feeling this way as they do now had been during their first journey. How scared and tired they were by the time they reached the storm. But they had someone with them, someone who stuck by their side, urging them on.

And they sung to them.

Shakily, they began to sing the only song they knew.

“To each his day is given…” It was softer, sadder, than how they usually sang it. Lower and slower than how it had been achingly sung in the bitter cold storm all that time ago.

Still no reaction.

“To each his day is given.” They sang it more surely, shakiness still present but something deep and longing helped hold their voice steadier.

And perhaps it was a trick of the light but yet perhaps there was a twitch.

“Tis my time that I fare from you.” The bitter-sweetness seeped through as it always did. Goodbyes to good people would always be that way. Surely Last knew that all too well just as Archways did if not more.

“Lost is my homecoming.” They sang with more of that deep longing, more intensely, where distance didn’t matter.

Becoming engrossed in their song now, they didn’t notice that the haunted face could now see the wall of which they stared at for so long.

“Lost is my homecoming.”  Deeper still it became, louder and richer, covering the distance, not to the Mountain, never to the Mountain had it been to them.

Eyes turned slowly to see them through the corners.

“I Was Born For This.” They sung this loudly yet neutrally as if testing the words, not confidently yet not unsure either. A task given to them, a task in the beginning they had not known the reason for until many treks later, of something that would truly become ingrained in them the more they did it. 

And they didn’t do it alone.

“Along this road no-one goes.” They continued, now joined by another, Whiteburst, the song gaining such strength and resolve even with just one other at their side. 

“Along This Road This Autumn Eve.” The song was swelling up, the emotions of love and regret playing off of each other in a dance that has lasted an eternity but still as strong and as beautiful as the first day they met.

“I WAS BORN FOR THIS!” The declaration pierced the very heavens now as the two rang the notes with such conviction. It was determined, sure, and bursting with confidence in a way as if no storm could ever stop them. The bonds of many strangers they had met, of all the memories good and bad, echoing within their soul in an endless loop. This song of the new people drowned out all other noises as the wind carried it far and wide. The Mountain’s light could’ve even have been said to have glowed all the brighter as if singing herself.

“Do not Pity Me, I Was Born For This.” The song tapered off, no longer a declaration but a promise. It became comforting, soothing, of all the warmth they felt to each and everyone. Of warmth that eased the soul during the darkest and coldest of time.

And as the last of the song fell silent, the silence of before was replaced by a new silence, not of turmoil but peace.

Peace that was hard won.

“... where… did you learn that?” a quiet voice broke the silence.

“From first journey along this path. Do you recognize it?” Archways faced Last. The ancestor was slumped, exhausted and drained in more ways than one, but they were here in the now.

“... … not quite, something… similar.” Last replied with quiet effort. Archways nodded their head and motioned for Last to continue. The ancestor looked to think on it, wondering if they could continue, if they could sing. In the end, they tried.

It was not a song of words however, but the notes continued on the same in manys places. The humms, tings, and tolls were not of love and regret however. This wordless song was of the wanderers, the lost, and those that seeked for a calling. It was of the unknown wastes and wondering if there was anything out there at all to search for, but search for they did. And where their notes had swelled into declaration, this one swelled into a call for anyone, anyone out there, but receiving no response before slowly falling silent. It was a song of quiet desperation in a vast world, yet it was not sung in a negative way. The caller still called, still wandered, still continued on knowing something was out there even if they weren’t yet sure of what exactly.   

 When Last finished there was only a moment or two before they spoke again.

“Whenever we passed by any of the pilgrims, there was always at least one singing that.” Last explained. “I don’t know who started it.”

“I do not think it matters who did.” Archways remarked. “I think it matters that it matter to many.”

More silence followed as Last reflected. It amazed them that that song had survived into this new age but also saddened them for was it the only one to survive? They had known many songs before but much of them had faded with time, lyrics lost and notes forgotten entirely. But also this song had transformed. Similar yet foreign.

“Why does the song matter to you?” Last asked. They had to know, had to ask.

“It means lot. To me, to Whiteburst, to everyone. It is a promise and a comfort.” Archways explained simply. It meant so much to them that simple words didn’t do it justice yet they were unsure exactly how to really explain it. For they had not understood it in the beginning themself. It had only been through repeated experience that they knew why the song was left for them, gifted to them, by the ones-from-before.

“I don’t think I understand.” Last said after a time.

“Well… then what does it mean to you?” Archways replied genuinely curious.

“It… doesn’t sound like that to me. It sounds like a duty left to those with little choice.” Last stared off towards the ruined city.

“And what does Last think that duty is?” Archways probed, hoping to open Last’s eyes to the truth. To the truth that they knew well.

“I don’t… I don’t… it feels like a duty to the past.”

“Perhaps close, a duty of the past to the now and to the future.”

“But what is that duty of the past then that is thrusted onto you new people?”

“If helps, that ‘duty’ is something I been doing everyday even when I did not know,” Archways chirped sweetly. “Even when we talked in dunes.” 

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Will help understand, but to understand is not something that is teach, you must live it.” Archways said but didn’t wait for an answer as they continued to speak. “We move on? Path is very good at helping understand.”

Last nodded reluctantly, unsurely, before standing up and facing the statue. Whiteburst was quick on their feet as they moved ahead to activate it but waited for the others regardless as the circle of light manifested before them.

Last did not feel fear this time. On edge? Yes. Fear? No. The fear had drained from them for now. 

Together they stepped into the light.

.

.

.

.

.

Once more the monochrome landscape came into view and once more there was someone there to greet them. 

They didn’t speak right away, simply regarding Last neutrally, but soon enough they spoke.

“I feel you have many questions.” 

‘Many questions’ was an understatement in Last’s opinion. Where could they even begin? Of their mentor? How one should speak in certain situations? Of the meaning of Archways’ song? And of the itty bitty details each one splintered off into until there were too many questions to ask?

“If it helps there’s three others still after me.”

Last nodded absently before making their decision.

“Why did you leave that song?” Last questioned impulsively. It wasn’t their first choice and others should’ve taken priority but the song struck something within them. “Wouldn’t it be best to just leave it behind?”

“Interesting… to answer that, think, what reason could we have had to preserve it for the future?” Their dead kin questioned back, cheerfully. But Last didn’t have an answer and rather than reflect on the question bounced it back.

“Why preserve it when the past shouldn’t force some duty on others that were not involved with what happened.” Last hissed with irritation, cloak tight with anger. Duty of the past thrusted onto the future for no other reason than failure. Failure, failure, failure, it was what they saw achingly the most.

“Much like a song, history has a tendency to rhythm, but the message behind a new verse doesn’t necessarily have to match with the previous.” 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Last feared the answer. Feared that it meant the world would recover somewhat but simply fall back into another war. A hellish cycle until there was truly nothing left at all. And what good would a song do then with nothing left?

“Oh Last… our people did not start out in war. We were proud of our accomplishments, of what we built, of where we thought we were taking the future to. But we were careless too. So, for this new future we chose everything with absolute care, even with something as simple as a song.”

“But what does it mean?” Last clicked hard. What was the song supposed to mean for the future? What duty did it hold? Why did it matter when all these people did for all their lives was to walk the same path over and over and know nothing else? To get so tired of it as to leave and walk out into dangerous lands? What good was it at all? 

But all they got was a sad chuckle as the world faded, the tapestry’s story about to continue where it had left off. 

“We were proud… all of us bricks in a great wall we built together… but we had no cement between us. But I believe in you.” They said cryptically as they disappeared and the tapestry took their place. It showed how the civilization grew and grew, replacing fertile ground with grand buildings, overtaking hilly lands until a city had entirely conquered it all. 

And Last was left with no answers, just more questions to burden their mind.

They released a defeated sigh as the real world came back into view. Once more they were the last to exit but at least this time it seemed they weren’t too far behind. Archways and Whiteburst looked to have just gotten up themselves and hadn’t yet busied themselves while waiting for the ancestor. 

They still couldn’t understand and believed they never would. They tried to hold on, to wait, to hope, to try. Last cared and cared a whole lot, but in the end the past had doomed the future. But they had to, a promise to be kept it was, even though it felt impossible and the eventual end merely stubbornly prolonged.

A familiar hummed tune echoed out from the past, bouncing off old underground walls as someone tidied up the books.

The ache of their mentor’s failure to come back stung all the deeper.

.

.

.

.

.

The spirit let out a defeated sigh as Last exited. They tried to be positive, that one day things would be alright, good even, but it was hard when the past came to haunt you. They remembered too many people, their people, who had been lost just like them. Lost in every sense of the word. They had wanted to be cheerful and jolly for Last, to get them excited for something to look forward to, of the fun to race and surf across the sands.

But what a curse it was for one to be so bur-

“.”

Their train of thought was abruptly stopped as a distant sound echoed through the monochrome realm. So distant that they felt it more than heard it.

“Hello?” They called back with confusion. Was it one of the other six spirits? With how far it sounded it might’ve been Bob… but Bob and the others could contact them just fine every other time.

But whatever made the noise didn’t repeat it and Thársos was left in silence. They had all the time in the world though so they waited. Waited to see if it was simply nothing…

…Or if the day still had twists and turns.

Chapter Text

Rusted gates creaked and groaned as an explosion of red erupting out before they could fully open.

The joy of freedom sang all the carpets. Repeated over and over. Archways hoped one day it would be true forever.

For now, there was a conundrum. The carpets were far too small for Last to ride nor would the touch be appreciated. So considering their aversion as well as their size, it was opted that Last fly next to the herd of carpets, energizing chirps ensuring that even someone as inexperienced as them could clear the city wall.

The second Last’s feet touched the ground, a strong wind picked up and forced them on. Its suddenness meant that they nearly lost their footing as they ungracefully righted themself into surfing. They looked three times as ungraceful since ahead of them were Archways and Whiteburst zigzagging and weaving past each other with practiced ease.

It had been a long long while since they surfed the sands to any substantial degree and oh did it show .

So much so that Archways was concentrating hard to slow themself and looked over their shoulder frequently to make sure Last wasn’t left behind. Last wobbled as they tried to lean forward to gain speed, face equally wobbling between frustration and fear as they fought to keep balance. Meanwhile, Whiteburst kept their pace with Archways and mused a thought or two.

This was supposed to be fun .

These two were still too wound up for it to be fun.

But Last had reacted well to the path’s song. So with a little encouragement from the giggling petal Whiteburst set out to make their own.

“^Barum bu ba ba ba _{bum buuuuuum}.” Whiteburst thrilled deep within their chest. It was nonsensical noises but it had its rhythm. An excellent start if they said so themself! Something light, something fun!

And to the moment's merit, Archways picked up their intent instantly.

“Dun da til ^{li ti til ti!} ”  Archways thrillled at a higher range.

“ ^Da ni ne _ti^Da ni ne _{ti Dah} n ^{I NI!} ” Whiteburst thrummed deeply and quickly as they spayed sand in time with the song.

“ Pop pop… pop pop pop Pop.” The Flower added in their own simpler sound as the two bounced the song between them; sometimes singing all at once and sometimes taking turns.

Last remained silent, gaze tired but gliding around towards whoever in the trio was currently making noise. Whiteburst rolled their eyes as they dug their legs into the sands to slow enough that the lagging ancestor was now right beside them.

“Du ^{r uuu} ni ni ni n _uuuu .” Whiteburst encouraged them as they surfed circles around them.

“ *Tunk.* ” Last made a hollow noise. It was meant as a note of deadpan, of disinterest, to indicate that they weren’t up to it. But, as it was, it sounded lovely; a note that flowed nicely within the tune. Whiteburst took it as such and chirped enthusiastically for Last to do more.

Last… Last didn’t really feel like singing right now, feeling as hollow as the note they made. Too many questions, too little answers, burnt out and exhausted and frustrated and worried. Who would even want to sing with anyone in such a state as they were in right now? But they didn’t want to ruin or interrupt the song either. And right now, Archways truly sounded light and cheerful, not strained or trying to mask said strain. Such a thing has been scarce since they left their home. Their light twisted achingly within them at this.

“ Pop pop p pop!” The Flower poked out from under Whiteburst’s headpiece and whizzed around Last’s face in what could be added encouragement… or sass. Archways glided smoothly through the sand and grinned brightly with their eyes as they looked back at the others as they sang unhindered.

“Thuk thuk th thuk.” Last copied the Flower’s notes with their hollow sounds.

Whiteburst zigzagged in excitement, circling Last a couple times more before speeding ahead with blaring, triumphant notes as the four headed into a narrow passageway. The Flower was still dancing around them, continuing her own pops and plucks, nudging here and there as if to say “ come on, you silly thing! A bit more ‘umph!’”

Last only got a couple more “thuks” out before Whiteburst’s notes grew exponentially in intensity. Not just theirs too, Archways’ notes sped up and climbed up higher and higher as the two reached the end of the long passageway that Last had just entered…

…where there was only empty air at the other end.  

The thuks that had been about to be lacklusterly sung were instead sputtered out into rapid panicked ringing.

Which was abruptly cut off once they were thrusted out into open air. 

They at least had the sense to spread out their cloak to parachute gently to the ground. All the while they could still hear the two sing their gibberish song, though the intensity had left and was now slow and drawn out with high chirps and pauses.

But the two weren’t on the ground.

“Ba baba.. Bararura ra a…a…” Came from somewhere above them. Squinting up towards where they had just been dumped from, Last could see the two on an old pipe, where a glyph shone brightly.

Of course they would know it’s there… and therefore knew to fly at the beginning of the drop inorder to easily get to it. 

They didn’t stay up there long and soon dropped down. Though “dropped down” was actually inaccurate, more like dive-bombing at breakneck speed, only to spread their cloaks a mere breath away from hitting the ground… Well Whiteburst actually did plow into the ground as they failed to notice a raised pile of sand but that was after initially avoiding the sand that was leveled. Archways’ was far more coordinated and speedily circled the area with grace, chirping loudly once, twice, and then thrice, to open and free a quad of carpets before Last even registered that they were even there.

Three of the carpets swiftly squeezed through some holes, activating some mechanisms that would’ve otherwise been out of reach, and freed a whole fleet of flyers.

Ah… they formed a way up to undoubtedly the next part of these wind blasted ruins.

Sigh…  

Why did it always have to involve physical contact?

“Dara a ^{ah unn} Da unn _oo .”

“Bah ra e e _{un o} Beree _{un o} .”

“Ka ririri ie ^co o ^o _o o coo.” 

“E_eeooo ra a oo _oooo .”

All the while the two others made soft, simple notes that held no rush or want for speed as it had previously. With discomfort and silence on their part, they made it to the ledge that overlooked the next leg of this area. They didn’t go quite yet, grabbing the glyph on the old pipe first, before returning to gaze out into the much more open space.

And with another steep drop, one far less unexpected than the last, the song picked up its speed again as soon as they made contact with a single grain of sand.

“Daaa aa^{a rrrriiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeEEEE} !” Archways zipped ahead, weaving between oddly yet intently placed structures. They looked like gates or doors with no entrance or walls and were just tall enough for the smaller ones to surf through.

“ARCHWAYS!” Archways spun around and exclaimed with glee before Last could question why those structures were there. They chirped and giggled happily as they weaved in and out of the things backwards before spinning back ‘round and speeding off down one of three branching paths. At least that was one question answered: where their red companion’s name had come from.

Last was, however, abruptly aware that they hadn’t turned in time to be able to follow Archways down the same path. Instead their lack of response had them going down the right path whereas Archways took the middle.

But they could still hear them.

Whiteburst sounded the furthest away, notes at the edge of hearing and indiscernible, while Archways’ singing wasn’t stolen away by distance or wind.

They could hear an edge of panic.

“Ti tathuk tu thuk titi th thunk!” Last called loudly over the wind. The edge of panic vanished all at once and was instead replaced with rejoice. Last hardly noticed the hollow notes, in their effort to be heard, were just a tinge more vibrant.

The part of the song from Archways rushed closer but cliff and ruin alike blocked their view of just where they were coming from. Though as they rounded a corner, Last could gather a rather good guess as yet another glyph glowed at the edge of a ledge. Sure enough, the red cloak shot out of a tunnel a moment later with an explosion of light.

Scuffed  as it would be, Last took flight to try to nab the glyph as they sailed by. It was nail-bitingly close but somehow they managed it, flying just right just in time to snag it.

They almost failed to hear the noisy yet pleasant ringing and dinging of notes harking pleased success. At first they thought it was Archways, or perhaps Whiteburst witnessing the feat just in the nick of time, but no. Those rings and dings came from none other than their self. For a moment, it startled them into silence. They had no thought behind them, no conscious will to bring it forth, yet they came out nonetheless to smoothly settle into the song of four. Somehow, someway, it came out as the most natural thing in the world.

The puzzlement, that small confusion of how it came to be, was shattered as Whiteburst skidded out of nowhere to dart about in front of them. They spun around them so happy, so merry, with joy and pride at what all of them were creating. 

The tightness they carried always, for once, felt like it had no grip at all.

…

…They used to sing often. 

To preserve, to remind, to honor.

When was the last time they sung to create?

Not since…

Whiteburst changed the flow, inadvertently halting the returning grip from completely stealing away the small scrap of merriment they felt, to something that was gentle and delicate.

 Archways switched up their tune as well to match.

…

They were sure they would’ve loved this.

They… weren’t sure what to do with the soul deep ache here. They tried to keep it away from their voice in their next few notes but all it did was make the thuks sound hollower than ever before.

The hollowness frustrated them now. Wrong in all its flatness. Oh a singing of pure beauty it should be if only they… if only they were…

Why couldn’t the ache just leave? Just for one moment.

Instead a phantom image danced in front of them. Tall as them with a midnight face trapped in time, never aging, spun and danced in the sands with the two they never could meet but oh what an image all the same.

“ Come on! Speak! Sing! Like this!” The phantom encouraged as their ghost weaved between the unaware others. 

The next thuks out of them went deep but not dark. Out of tune but not out of sync.

“ Come on! Come on! Yes! Sing!” 

Always loud, always enthusiastic, always happy. The phantom surfed closer and circled around Last as Whiteburst had. Close yet so far. Oh how they wished they could’ve been here with them all. How that wish wound its way through their light and turned their next notes sweet and rich. It would never be but oh how they wished!

“ Love love! You will love it! Love this!” For once in their long life, Last was confused by the phantom. Love what? 

All at once the world turned dark and the phantom vanished. All at once, Last became aware the song changed to ripple pleasantly, to pluck, to blend and flow as a mythical river. The light around them shimmered and shone in a sea of gold, turning everything and everyone it touched the same. They became transfixed as the warm shadows made every ordinary grain of sand ethereal. Golden light so extraordinary it became something tangible within them. Something squeezed tight, though it was not that old grip, as they tore their gaze from the sand to the mountain.

Oh what a sight to behold.

Oh how they would’ve loved it.

By their side the phantom returned. They could not see their face but knew all the same how their smile danced. 

Something inside them turned and twisted, too full for the body it was trapped within, too immense to stay put.

“ Sing! Go on Sing! Sing!”

They had not sung to create in so, so long…

“..haaaa oo ooraaaah..” It creaked and slipped through its tight confines awkwardly. Something rusted, something long in disuse. Something long dormant that willed itself alive and awake. 

“ah r ^{a aaaa ah ahraa} a ^aaaah ar ra ^{ah Ah} .” More and more it forced the opening wider.

“O_ooo roO^{oOOH AA AAA AAAAAA RAAA!!!} a O^{OoOOROoo uuu ruuuuuuu} uooo uuuuuu…” It overtook but didn’t drown out all the was around and aloud. Enriched and ascending the nonsensical song to something far more than it had any right to have become but oh how it seemed destined to be all the same. 

Yet all too soon it fizzled and faded away as the four slid to a gentle stop. 

The silence wasn’t all unwelcomed, for the beauty of all around them remained to inspire awe.

But…

It should be noon,

The golden sunset did not move,

Questions still unanswered,

And worry for the future remained.

“This doesn’t last, does it?” Last spoke after a time. Enough time that at some point they had all sat down.

“No and yes.” Archways answered easily, content in the moment. “Sunset will go, but moment stays with us.”

Last nodded along but didn’t say anything. Their attention shifted as someone else joined them, the phantom that haunted them so for so long. A want and a wish not real, never real, could never ever be real. 

“ Love this, yes ?” The phantom asked the question only their old torn mind could hear. Yes, they would’ve said back, once upon a time without question or fear. The yes they felt now was slow and hesitant, cautious that it’d be the last good thing before it too would be snatched away.

“Is… will there… do you know of any…” danger they wanted to ask. Too many times has danger come after unguarded joys in their life. They couldn’t make it come out but Archways knew all the same.

Their pause was all but telling.

“Yes.” They eventually said. “But I know tricks, I know how to mess with the danger.”

There was a sparkle of mischievousness in their eyes as they said this. Light-hearted and sharp in a way of that of a clever prey who duped the predator over and over again. Sure and solid about what they were getting into.

It was not reassuring.

Not in the least.

“How?” Last asked.

“I’ll show how.” Archways beamed. “Need not moving sand though, need still sand. Near here, just down ahead of us.”

Last nodded absently but did not stand up to go. Their gaze lingered on the Mountain for a long while, taking it in for what may very well be the first and last time they could. 

“Go to statue?” Whiteburst piped up after it was clear Last wasn’t moving on their own accord anytime soon. The Flower emphasized this by zipping by their line of sight before lazily floating towards where they all needed to go.

“…yeah.” Came the whispered and wary confirmation. 

Whiteburst stood up promptly, no breath between the word and the action, then gave a swift and powerful full bodied nod. When their head snapped back up, their eyes burned with a fierce intensity that pierced through the veil of the golden dark dusk around them.

“Go! Go You you you and Me! Go from here to there!” Whiteburst burst out with sheer determination, eyes burning bright enough to chase away the shadows, as they leapt forward and cried. “For Mountain, For Last!”

The others blurted out various clangs and crashes for them to ‘hold on!’and ‘Wait!’ and other expressions to ask them not to get too far ahead of the group.

“B^a br^{r ump} ba rump Brr ^{R UMP BAAAAAA!! Bahbumbrum til} til _til^{bahbumrum til} til_til durun du_run du_dududu Bu br P^{brump bum!} B^{ru mp} br _{bum Bennt!}” Whiteburst blared in challenge to the dark places ahead, unafraid and daring as their song grew louder and louder into a fierce declaration. They were protector of Last! And none of the trials ahead would stop them! They charged forward without hesitation, leaning with the wind as it too howled the song of trials until the roar of it all shook the air. Down they sped faster and faster as the wind whipped by in a frenzy with the sands growing steeper with every second the sun fell further and the shadows closed in.

“BA! ba! BA! ba! ^{Babrrummbaladulum di}di Dum du Dum!” 

The light of the mountain faded and all plunged into darkness.

Chapter Text

In the darkened pit, the plan was laid out.

It was bizarre, it was simple, it was terrifying.

As Archways explained, the more Last’s cloak pulled taut and then the more it relaxed. 

There were two Machines at the second half of the Underground. One which laid seemingly dead at the base of another where the trigger was a carpet. The other just beyond it was easily spotted when you noticed it was the only one with its wings spread out. Two machines to avoid, two machines that searched, two machines that killed.

Yet the confusing information Archways provided was that, by being too fast , the two would never search the halls as intended. What should be a passage of terror would become no more dangerous than that of the harmless pink desert.

For the first machine, If one flew into the next room before the Machine finished waking, time would simply… break.

The Machine could not be in two places at once, two places it must be in. So to pass to the next area where it must be before it finishes in the first where it also must be meant… it would just never show up . The breaking of the sequence of events would just break those events entirely.

Same with the second in a way. By going through its portion of the halls by being too high up and never touching the ground… it simply never turns on.

Archways explained there were many such breaking of events on the path. Last’s mind swam as Archways tried to explain a few more - such as breaking the sequence of events so thoroughly that an awakened war machine could become frozen in time and unable to move.

It… hurt a lot to think about.

But they were at least glad that the ones they would have to pull were by far the easiest…

Last just had to be fast enough.

Last’s cloak pulled taut again around their body. 

They were not confident enough to know, in all certainty, that they would be.

“Machine Go! Machine from here Go! Whiteburst, Me, fast fast fast! Fast fly Machine go!” Whiteburst’s eyes still blazed a brilliant white as they stomped determinedly in place as the last of the instructions were given.

Last meekly nodded as they tried not to let all too familiar terror ripped their mind away from the present.

“For now, we go to statue,” Archways replied. “then quiet half of underground first.”

“Statue!” Whiteburst exclaimed, still blazing bright, as they beelined to the Statue and swiftly activated it.

Last thought about bailing here and now. Fly away back to their home and never leave again. But the pit was too deep and so the only way out was to go through where they didn’t want to be. 

“It will be okay. I know you scared. Very scared. But I also know it will be okay.” Archways reassured. Gentle, understanding eyes gazed into Last’s and their cloak relaxed just a fraction. It w… it will be okay.

Together the four stepped into the light.

.

.

.

Last blinked their eyes as they adjusted from the darkness of the pit to the brightness of the ancestors’ realm.

It took them a good second to realize the spirit before them had their back turned from them. Last tiptoed curiously and cautiously forward. When they got close enough, the spirit turned to face them but otherwise did not move. The eyes that stared back at them were calm and collected but could not hide their haunted look entirely.

It was a look they were all too familiar with.

And it seemed neither of them really knew what to say.

“…what is that that you seek the most?” The spirit eventually said. Last did not answer straight away as the question took them off guard. It was not a hard one to them though and after they recovered they swiftly gave the answer.

“I want to fix the world, bring back what was lost.” Last answered confidently. It was one of the few things they felt the most sure about.

“What a noble thing. But it is a hard thing to do.” The spirit replied with a light chuckle and a sigh.

Last did not doubt the spirit’s words, but a bubbling stew of emotions threatened to make their next words sharp.

“Did you try?” Was the best they could say neutrally and even then there was a snip to it.

“…We all did, in the end. The end is not a good place to start though.” 

Last’s cloak grew taut again, both in anger and in despair. Was it all too late then? Was everything doomed to fail and bear no fruits for their efforts?

Was their lost mentor’s efforts for nothing?

Their cloak became painfully tight as emotions rolled through them like a storm. Perhaps they should never have left home at all, home where they were safe and nothing could harm them except for ghosts of the past that had grown fainter and fainter with every year that passed. Ghosts that since leaving their home have grown all the clearer.

But they knew, deep down, that it was cowardly and selfish. In time they would fade and there’d be no one left to take care of the plants and they would perish soon after.

“It’s a good thing, then, that one end is not the end of everything.”

The spiraling thoughts halted and Last eyed the other waiting for them to continue.

“Well I guess what I’m trying to say is… I sense a new beginning on the horizon.” The spirit chuckled. Their laugh was something both sad and sweet. Yet when the spirit faced them again, it was with the shadows in their eyes chased away.

Last choked back a cracked chirp. They needed to ask it, an important question. No more questions of intrigue, it needed to be a question of importance.

“…I know many people came through here…” Last abruptly started, stopped, forced back another broken sound, then continued. “But I wonder if a particular individual passed through here.”

“Oh?” 

“…My mentor.” Last said. “They… they went out searching for places and ways that would help kick-start the lands’ recovery and the Flower said that she saw them heading to the Mountain but…”

“… I’m guessing it’s been a long time since?”

A long time… a long time didn’t feel strong enough to describe the two centuries waiting for someone doomed to never return. A long tired sigh escaped them as they shook their head lamely. 

“No matter how long… I need to find out where they went, if they found anything at all.”

“Well I can not help you there…” The spirit said, before bringing their cloak up to show they were not done yet. “But the one after me was an esteemed archivist in life and had a very personal cloak in recording a lot of the lives of the pilgrims who made their final trip to the Mountain. If anyone here knows where your mentor went, it’s going to be them.”

Last gave a small nod in thanks but it did little to ease their mind. It was… something. But it still meant getting past the War Machines. 

Their cloak remained all too tight.

Evidently, it was not well hidden.

“Hey now, you have little to worry about,” The spirit softly chided. “Those two combined have successfully led thousands of their kin safely to the end. You just have to listen and follow them and you will succeed, too . ”

Last hardly had time to give a small nod of acknowledgement before the next part of the tapestry’s story started.

It showed that shining bright city’s lights flicker and abruptly plunge into darkness. It was no longer high and mighty, its grandeur to waste, as two people were shown fighting over scraps. And then… And then the Machines , roaring and destroying, were shown with their now long dead riders in the midst of a terrible battle where people died and the city was razed to the ground. 

It was all too familiar.

They remembered the shouting.

It couldn’t end soon enough but Last was hardly any more relaxed as the world of the living came into view.

And as Last’s form faded out of the realm, Mémoire was now alone. Their own deep ache from their time of the living felt abruptly too close to the surface and as distant as the sun. There had been a many of their fellows that they wished had braved the invisible darkness in their cracked lights as Last has today. The Underground would not be easy on them yet they more or less willingly placed their cloak into that of others. They would not be alone.

A sign escaped them.

Both one of grief,

And one of exasperation. 

Grief for the aforementioned and exasperation for now knowing, for certainty, that it would be completely and utterly impossible to fix the time and space breaking the new Rythulians did. They hadn’t even known about the literal trapping of an active war machine and bouncing off it for fun.

“ 99 bugs with the path on the wall, 99 bugs with the path, take one down, patch it around, 153 bugs with the path on the wall…” Mémoire mumbled and grumbled to themself.

“-o!”

“SH-! Mmh.” The ancestor cut off the spooked swear by forcefully muffling it with their cloak. Then, with an embarrassed swipe downing of their cloak to smooth over the frays of startlement, the sigh that came now was that of pure exasperation.

“Har Har… real funny.” Mémoire turned away from the Mountain towards whomever it was that decided to play a prank on them. Āstigian was the most likely as was Thársos, however on the occasional blue moon,  quiet shy Lux might also pull one.

But they were met with empty air instead.

Mémoire blinked and hummed in suspicion before turning back to the Mountain once it caught up to them that the partial heard shout was coming from that direction and not from further off. Awaseteiru was out of the question, outside of one - just the one- prank they pulled after the Path had already looped hundreds of thousands of times over in well established rhythm. No one ever believed them about it… 

So that left Bob. Oldest and Wisest of the Six Historians of the Mountain’s Pilgrimage, the favorably chosen leader that held the honor of guarding the gates to the very Mountain of which they gave their lives to help correct that of a horrid past…

And an absolute cheek more often than not. 

“Mémoire!”

Said ancestor choked back another swear with a squeak as they whipped around to see who of the previous trio had decided to confess.

“‘Boo’ to you too.” Mémoire said flatly as Thársos came into view. There was a flash of confusion before there was then a flash of two and two clicking together.

“Oh you tart… unless ‘Boo’ is now pronounced like ‘Bow’ none of us were trying to startle you.”

Mémoire gave a huff but remained silent as they raised a quizzical brow paired with an equally quizzical tilt of their head.

“We have a mystery before us! Earlier, after Last had just left my area, I heard something similar but it was too faint for me to hear. Now it is here again.”

“Did the others before you hear it?” Mémoire now asked with genuine curiosity. 

“Obviously not Lux, but neither Āstigian nor Nick heard it either.” Thársos said just as the two other ancestors caught up to them, the only one missing was Nick who stayed behind in case the ancestors had to head back to their posts for whatever reason.

“Did it happen again? The mysterious sound?” Āstigian  said with a crack of breathlessness. 

“Well uh yes! But it wasn’t a sound, it was a voice,” Mémoire clarified. “I… only heard the very tail end of it, of an ‘o!’ then nothing.”

“And of the two times it’s happened, it’s been when Last passes through.” Thársos pointed out. “We must inform Awaseteiru and Bob.”

Mémoire nodded in agreement as did the others. With that, the four set off.

.

.

.

When the gates parted and the four stepped into the dangerous Underground, Last was expecting fear and terror not… not an odd sense of nostalgia. Though, as they pondered the misplaced feeling, it felt more like a mockery of it.

The blue tinted sands and the beams of light coming through to light up the long dark tunnels reminded them of when they found their home before it was a home. The ruined university had much the same atmosphere when they and their mentor first took shelter there when a sudden sandstorm hit in the evening. They were uneasy then, too. They had no idea of what could be waiting within the dark walls where the only source of illumination came from the holes in the armor of the massive war machine that draped over the building and a single flickering lantern.

Yet there they had discovered a greenhouse with a still existing natural spring inside and a small flock of birds amongst the foliage. A wealth of colors Last had never seen or could even conceive of and a mixed choir of voices they had not understood at the time.

In time, it transformed from just another ruin into a home.

But no choir or color or home there would be here.

Last suppressed a shutter as the group moved further into the eerie halls. They had to remind themself that the first half of this place was safe and sound but they could not stop themself from flinching and freezing at any little sound or any little shadow. They crept along on tip toes and had their cloak high up and stiff to minimize their own sound. The place was thankfully, so far, sparse of any place for a war machine to hide in wait for an ambush.

Last froze when a chirp rang out and echoed down the halls. Their cloak went painfully tight and they had to fight to calm the pounding of their glyph. When they dared to look, they found a carpet lazily moving about just ahead. It was clear that they were waiting for the group with their slow movements and turning around to check if they were still following. A temporary companion in these dark ruins.

A very temporary one indeed.

Archways had told them with a heavy glyph that the carpet could not make it to the end with them today. They had said that normally the carpet was snatched and killed by the first machine, and though there was a way to mess with the sequence of events so that they lived, to do so would cause the machines to act too erratically to grant safe passage. 

How many times did Archways have to witness that? In this ever looping path how many times did they go through knowing exactly what would happen?

But…

But yet with their limited speech and their limited understanding, the new people stomped the ground and said ‘ No, we will not let this happen.’ And through trial and error, of exploring every which corner, pushing every which crack, and tearing open the very guts of the Path, they succeeded.

They found a way to save the carpet and the flyers just beyond.

And they shared this knowledge, passed it around as well as they could, and told as many as they could that ‘ It does not have to be this way.’

And Last thinks back now, on how Archways left the Path to explore the lands beyond, lands that they shouldn’t have been able to. Archways had stared into the mechanisms of the Path alongside their kin, studied it, theorized it, and pushed it to its limits. Of course , then, that the land beyond the Path would become the next target of curiosity. The Path only had so much to offer but the Pathless beyond tempted promises and ideas of more.

Last’s foot slipped and their train of thought shattered as they righted themself. They had gone up a mound of sand but once at the top it suddenly dropped steeply on the other side. They took a few steps back and searched around for the others but couldn’t see them right away. Thankfully, before panic could sink its fangs in, the Flower came into view from the grates of a tilted up pipe and led Last to the others.

In the pipe was another Glyph, hidden from view when one walked in but once one turned around it was plain to see. What was also plain to see was Archways and Whiteburst within the pipe too.

It was a fair bit more awkward for Last to get to it since they were considerably taller. They ended up having to slide down on their rear and army crawl back up to get out. 

And when they came back out, Archways was clearly deep in thought. Last gave a prodding ping and Archways shook their head before speaking.

“Think about later. In the snow.” Archways said, still clearly thinking. “You are too tall.”

“Too tall for what?” Last questioned as they dusted the sand off themself.

“To hide,” Archways answered before quickly continuing before Last could get trapped in their head. “The Machines go to the Snow after the Underground. It is open space, snow makes you slow, but places to hide there, but we must go different way.You are too tall.”

“So you’re thinking of which way is the best?” Last forced out as they wrestled down their panic.

“Yes… But best one not one I have been able to do for long time.” Archways admitted. “It used to be easy, even first red cloaks could do it. Other best ways are difficult and some white cloaks struggle.”

“I… still don’t know why the colors matter?” Last had a couple of questions. The first that popped up was that, if what Archways said was true, then the Path was not as set in stone as they previously believed, however the cloak question was the one that bugged them just a tiny bit more.

“White gives more scarf and scarf fills when white cloak touches ground.” Archways said without judgment but it was cleared they were slightly amused that Last hadn’t noticed.

Last blinked, then blinked again, as they processed this information.

“The… the ground??” Last said with disbelief. Archways giggled a little and gestured to Whiteburst to fly up a little and then drop back down. And, without voice or touch, the second Whiteburst landed the scarf started to fill back up with energy.

Last gave another hard blink and then straightened up out of sheer confusion.

“The ground???” Last repeated, their mind blanking on the logic of it all. They understood how plants could get some of the light energy of the Mountain from the ground that makes its range with their roots, but Whiteburst was just casually on top of loose sand.

The three before them all nodded enthusiastically.

“How?” Last squinted at them, still not really believing them. It didn’t make sense at all to them!

Three shrugs in response. 

Last looked off to the side as their mind ran in circles trying and failing to pinpoint the hows and whys and huhs. Instead, they smacked right into an entirely different question.

“If white cloaks can just… re-energize you whenever you walk… why didn’t you use a white cloak when you left the Path?”

“Uh,” Archways suddenly went sheepish as their hood scrunched into many folds with the way their head tried to disappear into their chest. “I use red most. I use red to challenge me. White makes flying and things too easy.”

Last fluttered their wide eyes and gave a hard head tilt in a wordless ‘ excuse me?’’.

“Use red so much, using white did not- did not.. Um..word. Word?” Archways floundered.

“You use the red cloak so much that it did not occur to you to use the white cloak?” Last raised a brow, not believing that was the one and only reason. A small stare-off was then held as Last kept that raised brow up at an increasingly flustered Archways.

“... prettier too.” Archways muttered abashedly.

“ Archways.” Last funneled every ounce of their mentor’s ‘stern’ voice. Last knew of the love of challenge and love of the color, but much like before they knew something was being left out. Archways gave a few agitated mumbles as they tried to hide even further into their own body. 

“... I do not… I…” Archways huffed and pointedly stared hard at the ground. “I do not like it.”

“What?” Last’s voice squeaked out of surprise. “You don’t like it?”

“ No ,” Archways shook their head vigorously. “Unspoken things of it. Things must be, you must be, knowledge must be.” It was increasingly clear that the idea of them wearing a white cloak deeply upset them as their voice grew more distressed until it cracked at the end. 

“People think white cloaks know everything . But what is everything has grown bigger and grows bigger still.” Archways sighed with a troubled voice. “We do not know everything… I don’t know everything .” 

It clicked with Last then, that it was the pressure of expectations that Archways didn’t like about wearing a white cloak. And that dislike ran deep , deeper than what Last suspected that Archways could currently describe. And it was then that it clicked, for someone who loved the Path so much and its people so much, just why they had left the cherished Path. Not just out of simple curiosity of unexplored potential but because of the innate realization that they did not know everything. They knew a lot for sure and were incredibly wise and skilled, but the knowledge that there was a huge chunk of missing somethings is what drove them to go looking.

Archways knows there is more, and will always be more, to discover. It’s what changed their call of the pilgrimage to that of the unknown. 

But something burned deep down in their light. Archways saw that the white cloak has come to symbolize being all knowing, wise, and skilled even if it wasn’t true of the individual.

Archways chose red not only to challenge themself but to challenge that thinking.

They had something to prove.

“You want to show that the white cloaks shouldn’t have to know everything… because you know one day it’ll become impossible.”  

Archways nodded solemnly as they started to press forwards once more.

“I… worry. I worry for white cloaks. They are just like me, they are people, and we are a people with little. They should not have to know more just because of nice gift.” Archways said with a sigh. They looked back at Whiteburst, who was stuck with a look of confusion, and then smiled softly.

“Whiteburst was one that made me think how silly it is.” Archways chirped with a tinge of a laugh. Whiteburst perked up at their name and sped up a little to walk side by side with the rest as they all slid down the hill.

“Oh?” Last clicked at that with intrigue as the group moved through the room of kelp like cloth.

“Remember when I told you about first meet with them?” Archways spoke with fondness in their voice.

“Of course. You told me they were trying to show you where all the glyphs were.” Last replied as they flew up onto some pipes, snagging yet another glyph.

“Yes, and that was when I knew white cloaks don’t know everything.” Archways reminiscenced. 

“White, red, white, red, white? Whiteburst, me…you? No no things?” Whiteburst piped in, very clearly lost on what was being said.

“Us, in past, we go to Mountain. Whiteburst, you, did not know things, some things.” Archways spoke in a way that the other could understand. Whiteburst beamed in understanding as they started to sway pleasantly from side to side.

“Yes yes! Archways fast - fast fast fast fast fast! - Me, I, flew not fast fast fast fast fast but fast fast . Did not know red go fast fast fast fast fast , did not know white go fast fast fast fast fast. Archways got glyphs fast, I got glyphs not fast.” Whiteburst chatted excitedly as they passed into the next room filled with Jellyfish flyers.

But then the conversation stalled for a moment, then sputtered into nothing, as the sight of the jellyfish slammed Last back into reality. After them, it would be the Machines. 

Last’s cloak snapped tight.

Their light hammered away in their chest. A bird cornered and beating against its cage as the shadow of the cat slinked silently closer.

“Okay! Okay! Last Okay!” Whiteburst’s bright eyes were suddenly all too close to theirs and they flinched backwards. When they refocused, it was to the white cloak stomping the ground with such a force that the sand couldn’t recoat the stone floor fast enough.

“Last Okay! Machine go fast fly go! Go go! Not see! No!” Whiteburst continued to stomp but also now raised their cloak high and spread it out wide - a perfect intimation of Last’s own cloak flaring at perceived threats. Then, with their cloak still flared, they stomped over to Last’s side and turned around to face the direction they must go.

“No Wait! From here go! Wait no fast fly machine there, machine wait. No stop no wait machine still wait not go! Go us fast, machine go, Last okay!” Whiteburst ranted and chanted as they began to sway energetically from side to side. With how fast they spoke in that fragmented broken way, it took all of Last’s concentration to decipher just what the white cloak was trying to convey. Last looked unsurely to Archways who gave a well meaning chuckle.

Archways knew full well that Whiteburst wanted the group to go through the second half quickly, so that Last didn’t have the chance to freeze and get stuck.

“Whiteburst right. If we fly through quickly, we leave underground quickly. Do not have to worry about War Machines as much or for long.” Archways clarified for the white cloak. Last meekly nodded, it was the only response they could give. Had they spoken, nothing more than a wheeze and a croak would’ve come out.

“Just follow us, okay?” Archways gently spoke. A small comfort in these haunted halls.

Last nodded again and dragged their trembling legs forwards. They repeated the spirit’s words over and over again in their mind. “ Those two combined have successfully led thousands of their kin safely to the end. You just have to listen and follow them and you will succeed, too.”

It took achingly long to unravel their cloak from the vice grip it had on their body, to be able to spread it out to fly up and through the jellyfish room.

It was difficult to make it through, not just because their form so desperately wanted to be that of a brick, but also because the jellyfish flyers wanted no part in touching Last as much as Last wanted no part of touching them. The jellyfish could sense the overwhelming fear and so floated uneasily away.

But eventually, they made it up. Now that they passed that room, there was nothing but broken flooring between them and the nightmares made of stone.

Last squeezed their eyes shut as they all hopped down through the hole in the floor and kept them firmly shut even after they landed.

It wasn’t much good, to not look, as vents hissed and old gears groaned. And it didn’t help that they could still see the flickering green glow of the stone beast’s own even though theirs were closed. Yet there were also plucks, pings, chimes, and chirps that filled the air. Sounds that muted the others and helped Last peel their eyes open. They did not move though, their limbs feeling like the stone they feared, as the source of the glow was dead center in their vision.

Last couldn’t help but freeze as the eyes of the judgeful were all too clear. 

In their fight to beat back their paralysis, they tried desperately to hold onto the words of the spirit and their companions but it fell through their cloak like loose sand in the wind. The longer their eyes remained locked onto the decapitated machine’s, the more the world faded away into nothing. In their mind they tried to grab hold of something, anything , so that they could move one foot forward. Yet nothing came to their aid as their cloak squeezed painfully tighter and tighter around themself.

And then, suddenly, a song slithered through the last of Last’s senses to gently pull them out of the crushing weight of terror.

Someone was humming as they tidied the books.

“ Hm? What are you doing up?” An old voice dripped with worry and warmth.

“Can you keep singing?” Last’s voice cracked as they replied. 

“Ooh, did you have a nightmare again?” The voice sounded closer as if they had crossed the room. They could not feel the cloak that should’ve stroked their misty face. “ Yes, I can keep singing.”

Their mentor started to humm once more as they managed one foot forward. In the Underground, Archways and Whiteburst hummed that old song of the pilgrims as Last took another. Last’s wide eyes were no longer staring at the machine, they did not stare at anything else either, as the group passed through the entryway and over the flickering glow. 

But now they were surrounded on all sides.

They were not in their home, there were no books to be found, no comfort to be had.

“ Last!” It was their mentor again, in another place, in another time. “ Up here!”

They searched for the long gone voice, all they knew was that it was up . And there on top of one of many inactive War Machines was a splash of white. Their mentor, for some reason, still sang as if tidying the books. 

Whiteburst and Archways were encouraging them to fly up and on top of it. It would be where they’d get their height to build up enough speed to mess up the Machine and grant safe passage.

Their mind twisted upon itself trying to piece together what should be and what shouldn’t.

“ Quickly Last!”

They flew up with a shaking cloak.

“Good good, Last Okay.” It was Whiteburst. It was Archways.

“ On the count of three, we must run, and we must run quickly.” It was their Mentor, ragged and scared and brave.

“ One.” Last braced themself, cloak spreading wide.

“Two.” The group leaned forwards, ready for the jump.

“ THREE!” The shout rippled through time and everyone leapt off the machines and tore through the air. 

Last saw the carpet flyer fly ahead…

“GrG RoaOaGaOH!” The Stone Beast exploded into life, rearing its head back in a deafening roar as the flyer vanished in a burst of golden light and broken stone shot through the air. That stone of another rained down upon them, parts to dodge and weave to avoid being hit. They were fast, they had enough speed… but they were not as nimble as the others.

A stray piece clipped Last’s cloak.

They fell too low.

Panic seized their light as it fought in a frenzy and banged in their chest against the iron fisted grip. They hit the ground far too soon, just under the exit.

“RUN LAST RUN!” They heard their mentor shriek in terror as they disappeared around a corner. Last was not a great flier, and they were not good at surfing.

But they could run.

They picked themself up off the ground and sprinted with all the force of a gale behind them. Their mind became bursting with shouts and screams, the sounds of panic and battle, the cries of the injured and the silence of the fallen. But one voice above all could be heard, their mentor yelling for Last to run, run faster, keep going and do not - not even for one split second- look back. Their legs hit the ground like thunder, spraying the sand in the resulting shockwaves, as they made it into the narrow halls and drifted right then left.

In the grated window, the machine that should be there was not, but its grinding metal cry could still be heard. As Last made that last turn, the machine’s head came gliding into view.

No. No no no NO! Was the only thing tearing through their mind. We weren’t fast enough! 

“The right wall! Hug it!” Archways shouted as they and Whiteburst slammed their bodies to said wall. Last frantically caught up, cloak whipping in the stale air to move them faster, and slammed their own body right besides theirs. Their eyes had shut just as quickly, bracing for the inevitable, and painfully awaiting the Stone Beast to round the corner and bathe them in the red glow that tore screams out of them in their sleep.

Yet…

The only sound of the machine they heard was the sound of nothing . 

Last remained stock still as they pried their eyes open. They scanned the room slowly, with painstakingly attention to anything amiss, as their light thundered on. They could hear a song being hummed and they peeled their head off the wall trying to find the source.

They saw a splash of white, too brilliant in color and their stature much too short to be their mentor. Instead a little white cloak crept forwards and peered around the end of the hall; first to the right, then to the left.

“We did fast!” Whiteburst cheered, smiling back towards the rest. “Machine go!”

Last shook as relief dragged their form down into a hunch. We did it… oh, we…

Last sagged against the wall as their legs threatened to give. Crackles, not words, fell out of them as they let the wall hold their weight. They couldn’t yet get their legs to move, not even to slide forward along the wall and their mind was just as exhausted.

This was… not their home.

Their fractured light struggled to untangle itself from crossed memories.

Someone was humming a song.

They squinted ahead as they tried to refocus on the little cloaks.  Their light was no longer pounding so loudly and they further slacken, falling to one knee as everything fell into and out of focus and then back in. They knew, logically, that they were in the Underground with Archways, Whiteburst, and the Flower but it did not stop their mind from superimposing long gone things onto the present. One second it was them but the next it was not. 

And then, for a moment, it was them and their mentor together.

Yet another phantom in these ruins.

But they could not imagine the other phantom with this one. To imagine them here, in these dark halls filled with danger, would break them. The other phantom’s smile should never be in any danger as the cruelties of the world did not deserve them.

But in their glyph they knew that if their mentor had met the other phantom and the little cloaks and the golden petal, they would defend them until their light snuffed out.

“You okay Last?” Archways was suddenly much closer. The words slipped and rattled around in their head and it took entirely too long to parse the simplistic question.

“I… I will be fine.” The words fell out of them as stiff as stone. “Just.. just getting… my bearings.”

Archways felt only halfway convinced. The living ancestor’s gaze was unfocused, staring off towards nothing, and their body swayed far too unsteadily. On top of it all, the light in their eyes had dimmed and below them the cloth had drooped and darkened.

The day’s hardships had clearly taken their toll.

Yet the fact that they could speak at all was a far better sign than how they had slipped away entirely on the tower in the pink desert.

“Hardest part done. You did great!” Archways encouraged. Much as they wished to give the other time to rest and recover, they must keep moving. Once they got to the barrier, then they could take their time to sit and rest up.

“Up up!” Whiteburst added their own encouragement to the mix. “We fast fast fast, here to there small small.”

Last nodded and with a grunt forced themself to stand. When they pried themself off the wall, however, a hiss escaped them. Part of their cloak now throbbed painfully and from the familiar feel of it it was likely the stray chunk of stone that clipped them had hit with enough force to weaken some thread.

They did not lift their cloak to examine it, the others were worried enough as is, and instead began moving forwards, following the trio ahead of them.

The group did not take the main hallway. Instead they flew up to a high up open archway to once more get enough height to avoid the second machine. It was much much easier to not clam up on this one as Last wouldn’t hear any roars or clanking of gears powering up. It also helped that the machine’s back was to them and it did not move.

Last however winced as the group landed. With every flap of their cloak they had taken, the pain grew from throbbing to sharp and stabbing.

They still didn’t examine it.

What was one more hole in their cloak anyway?

Of course they would check it once they got to the end of the Underground. They would never be that foolish as to disregard basic first aid. They would stitch it up once they were somewhere safe.

The sudden sound of a growl and buzz of energy made Last flinch and then hiss, derailing their thoughts. But despite how close that sounded, like it was sailing right by, there was no machine to be seen. They scanned the hall, left and then right, but there was truly nothing there. Perhaps it was another trick of their mind much like the phantom of their mentor that lingered still. So they shook their head a bit and moved on.

Now it was onto the very last stretch of this horrid place. 

It was a straight shot to the end but now the absent War Machines, one that had disappeared and the other that shouldn’t be active, yet was, patrolled the long slide down to safety.

Their light began to pound in a frenzy again.

They let out a shaky wheeze. It would be fine, they told themself, the patrol lights wouldn’t even spot them. The group had one final, simple trick. All it would take was to fly over them, the machines so focused on the ground that their lights would miss them entirely.

Still they fought to ease their self.

They lined up with the others and let chirps charge up their now long scarf to full. They spread out their cloak much like before and got ready to fly. On another count to three, they braced for flight.

“Three!” Archways shouted and Last gave an almighty flap fueled by the rush of adrenaline-

-Only to come crashing down with a strangled cry.

Fire raced up their cloak as weakened thread snapped from the force of the flap and they tilted sideways before hitting the ground hard. 

Ground that thrusted them quickly downwards towards searching lights.

“LAST!” They heard the cry from above. They couldn’t chance a look up as they scrambled and flailed about trying to find their lost footing in the swift sands. Four voices started to overlap as the living ancestor descended faster and faster.

Archways’ panicked shouts,

Whiteburst’s keening shock,

The Flower’s barely heard quaking alarm,

And their Mentor’s frenzied hollering.

“LAST!”

Their mind became bathed in blinding red. 

They were no longer in the Underground, no longer with Archways, Whiteburst, or the Flower. Now they were caught up once more in an ambush, an ambush that wiped out half of their already pitifully minuscule group, with their Mentor hollering for them to keep going, keep running, and do not stop running.

“RUN! KEEP RUNNING!” It was all too clear, that pure terror that had lanced their mentor’s abused voice. “DON’T STOP RUNNING UNTIL YOU GET TO-!”

They remembered all too much as their Mentor’s voice was drowned out as a War Machine came roaring out from the center of the assault -rider thrown off and left in the dust- right into Last’s line of escape.

The memory of the dawning horror on their mentor’s face burned brightly still, far too clear to this day despite the length of time that had passed. How the winds wailed with them as the terror tearing through them did not grant them enough speed to outpace the nightmare. They would not make it to cover in time. 

And then…

A streak of blazing white dove straight into the searchlights.

“KEEP GOING! DON’T LOOK BACK!”

Their mentor used what little power they had to get in the way, a chance for Last to escape unharmed.

In the underground, Whiteburst and Archways took a searchlight each so that Last would not be targeted.

Last couldn’t wail their anguish, couldn’t scream their fear, nor could they shout their anger to the uncaring skies. All they could do was run and watch as their mentor was slammed into and yanked away to be torn apart with a burst of golden light. But in the underground, the golden lights burst into life and scorched the eyes of the two machines, forcing them to scatter and flee.

The loudness of the barrier activating startled them causing them to slip and come crashing down in a heap of crumbled folds and frayed nerves.

The lights of the shield died down soon after the machines were repelled. In the quiet that followed, if a pin dropped and clatter with all its might, Last wouldn’t have been able to hear it. The only thing they could hear was the overwhelming pounding of their glyph.

Hide, hide, hide, I must hide! Their instincts wailed but their legs had given up entirely so they remained crumbled on the floor. Nothing could bring them to move.

But then… a sound teased at their frayed senses.

Someone was humming.

Someone was tidying the books.

They were not in their home, and their mentor was long gone, but when they forced their head up they were on the old bench in the dead of night where the other had put down the duster to sit in front of them.

The worn eyes of their mentor gazed sorrowfully into theirs. One of them was still held in a permanent squint with the nasty scar running through it and down their face still plainly visible. A reminder from that day they took that hit for them.

“… the nightmare you had, it was much worse than usual wasn’t it?” They whispered. Last didn’t speak as a choked sob broke through.

“ It’s okay, it’s okay…” Their mentor cooed. “ You don’t have to deal with that ever again, we’re safe here.”

Last couldn’t feel their cloak stroke their misty face. Oh they missed them, they missed them so much . Their sobs wracked their body as their mind spiraled down and down. 

They lurched forwards.

And unlike the cloak on their cheek, the body of their mentor felt solid and sure. They could feel them freeze, just for a moment, before they returned the gesture and wrapped their cloak around theirs and squeezed.

“Ca-a-can you kep-keep si-sing-ing?” It warbled out of them in bits and pieces as their sobs splintered each word.

“ Yes, I can keep singing… for you I’d do anything.” 

Last sniffled as their mentor started up again and they buried their face in the folds of their cloak and hugged them just a bit tighter. It did not occur to them that their mentor was too short and their cloak too bright. It did not matter that their mind cried out for a dead mentor, a dead parent, because the call was answered.

Whiteburst hugged them tight as they hummed that old tune.

Chapter Text

A low, quiet sigh slipped by unnoticed.

Archways ran their cloak down their face until it arrived at their chin where it stayed to rest.

A LOT had happened, and each one required a lot more thought than they could put the effort into right now. As of a few minutes ago, Last had been lulled to sleep by the old song. It wasn’t intentional but it wasn’t a surprise to them either. Neither of them had really gotten any good enough sleep on the way to the path. Plus all that had happened once here had exhausted whatever wakefulness they had gained.

They very much wished to have a nap with them, just lie down for a quick snooze…

But right now they had a situation…

Last knew what sleep was and Last had taught them what sleep was. 

Whiteburst did not know what sleep was.

And the closest thing Whiteburst had to compare was the little death that happened in the cold storm. In both, you’d lie down, your eyes dim, and you’d become unresponsive.

So Whiteburst was now bawling their eyes out thinking Last had been so frightened that they just keeled over and died.  

…They weren’t sure how they could still be crying so much as a flood had already poured out of them, leaving behind a massive pool, when Last had given them the highly unexpected, completely out of nowhere, not even in the realm of possibilities, hug .

Archways shoved down the tinge of envy.

The hug was to talk about after they calmed the white cloak down.

“Whiteburst,” they tried again. “Last NOT dead.”

They floundered for a second as they tried to frame the concept of sleep in an understandable manner.

“Last is asleep . Last was tired - people go tired when do many things, people go tired when up long time, and people go tired when sleep too short.”

Whiteburst sniffled with big wet eyes and a cloud of mist so heavy that it still fell with fat drops of tears. 

But at least they were trying to listen.

“Sleep good. Sleep needed. Most do not know sleep because Mountain stop the tired.” The more they talked about sleep the more their eyes desperately wanted to droop. They stared expectantly at Whiteburst who looked to regain their thoughts. At least somewhat.

“Last tired long?” Whiteburst rasped between their fading tears.

“Yes, walk to here long. Last’s home to here very very long.” Archways nodded in more ways than one. 

They could see the other move to speak, flatter, and scratch their chin before they went headlong into their next words anyway.

“From not Mountain to Mountain -not Last’s home!- is short? Or long? Or short long? Or short short long or long long short?”

To even Archways’ tired mind, it was easy to understand what they were trying to convey. How long did it take to get from the start of the Path to the end and how did it compare to that of getting from Last’s home to here.

How long would it take to get tired?

“Short, very short,” Archways started, then thought a second as they tried to count in their head with the rudimentary math Last taught them. “Last home to here take… uh…”

They huffed wearily as the numbers wouldn’t form in their head so they started to draw tally marks in the sand. The Path took about two hours and Last said a cycle of day and night was twenty four… and it took them six days (but two by flight…)

Archways stared down at all the marks they made and it really made them realize just how short the trip to the Mountain was.

One day was twelve journeys. And they did it six times over!

They counted it all up, then realized they forgot to take in the fact that some of those hours were spent not walking but sleeping and shouldn’t be counted. How much sleep did they get? Maybe four or five a night?

Archways shook their head as they decided not to get too wrapped up on it and decided to work with it instead. To start, they circled two of the tally marks.

“This how long from not Mountain to Mountain take, and this-“ Archways then circled the rest of the many many tally marks. “Is how long from Last’s home to here take.”

They could see the white cloak’s tears vanish in an instant as their eyes were blown wide in awe and shock.

“ But, ” Archways punctuated with a firm chirp. “This how long we sleep from Last’s home to here.”

They then circled a portion within the circle, a total of twenty four tally marks, a whole day’s worth of sleep and once more it crossed them that it was as long as a dozen journeys.

How could so much sleep feel like so little?

Their head listed to the side with thoughts of their beloved soft cozy bed before they snapped to attention. Oh this was just as bad as when they flew for two days straight… how could it be just as bad when they had woken up just a little over an hour earlier?

When they focused back on Whiteburst, it was to a concerned yet inquisitive look.

“You sleep now?” Whiteburst said after a long pause.

Archways didn’t say anything right away. Too many thoughts were still rattling around in their head no matter how tired they were. 

All of them concerning Last.

But one that really bothered them and worried them to their core had to deal with that distant stare of theirs. The stare where it was clear that Last’s mind was not on the present but on some long ago memory.

It happened so much. It was the unfortunate norm of Last.

But now something abnormal had happened with it. 

Archways initially thought Last was pushing through it these past few moments such as when they all sang together but now they had some doubts. They sang with them and they responded to them and yet… 

yet their gaze was still far. Not the whole time, but enough to be noticeable.

And when it was far it focused on things that simply weren’t there. Like how their gaze looked forward but then circled round as if Whiteburst had danced around them again when they hadn’t. Or like how they glanced to the side as if something else was sitting with them in the golden glow of the city.

And now with the hug, Archways suspected it was meant for someone else.

It must be since just a couple areas prior, Last had been terrified of Whiteburst simply flying by. And they had a good feeling on who. 

“Archways?”

They blinked once, twice, as it occurred to them they hadn’t responded at all.

“Yeah… I need sleep.” They confirmed. Yet they couldn’t just yet. The Flower was waiting patiently impatient as she circled Last with worry. While Archways had no way to tell if she knew what sleep was, in that moment it was the far less pressing matter at cloak. 

Last’s far away stare may have gotten them hurt.

Archways had no more time to waste now that Whiteburst had been calmed and rose to their feet. The Flower continued her worried circle but now concentrated her spiraling above a particular spot on Last’s cloak. They tiptoed around Last’s crumpled form, moving around the vastness of their fabric, and crouched down to where she was pointing them towards. 

There were so many tears and holes in Last’s cloak that it took a bit of searching and more petal pointing for Archway’s to find the fresh wound. They knew it must’ve been from that chunk of falling stone, but they hadn’t realized that it had actually done true damage. They should’ve checked them over thoroughly before continuing, Last had shown a lack of feeling discomfort and pain earlier in the broken bridge area where they had not felt the prickling static of energy zapping every dry fiber and refusing to sink in.

And yet how could they have known? The new people such as themself had taken far harder hits and walked it off only dazed and missing a chunk of scarf. Was it because they were younger or was it perhaps that their cloaks were perhaps thicker and therefore more durable?

But now was not the time for mere worry and theorizing, so Archways reached into Last’s pack, thankful that they had fallen asleep on their side. Their injured companion had filled it with not just maps and seeds but also with what they called a first aid kit.

It was sparse, the supplies Last had had had mostly been used up over their long life and they did not have much in the way to replenish it. What was in it was a spool of white thread, the only thing they had plenty of, as well as a well used needle, a few pads of cotton, a small nearly empty jar of concentrated light, and a roll of paper tape with hardly any tape left.

They eyed the needle and thread nervously.

It would be the best option, to use it to stitch up the hole, but Archways’ fine motor skills were still not refined and they had a real fear of messing it up. Last had tried to teach them, when they were traveling, with a piece of scrap but their cloak had shaken every time.

They repressed an uneasy click and took out the kit.

Carefully, they set aside each piece. The first step was the easiest, it was just to take a cotton pad, soak it in the concentrated light, and dab it gently on the wound. It would help the threads weave themselves back together. With a small enough injury, that would be where the steps would end. Though they had no idea what a “small” injury was and could only hope that’s what this was. It certainly looked far smaller than the rest of Last’s older tears.

Perhaps even if it was too large though, the temple that was just ahead with its plentiful concentrated light - so much that you can swim in it - would fix it up all the same.

With that in mind, they picked up the pad and began the process. They weren’t sure how much light they would need so they dunked the pad in where it promptly soaked up most of what little was left in the jar.

They felt as if they had soaked up too much as it dripped with excess but didn’t want to try squeezing some out and back into the jar since they had no clue how to stop the stuff from sinking into their own cloak.

Carefully, as Last had shown with a dry pad, they gently dabbed the spot with the light. The torn threads, frayed and brittle, now glowed a soft white and started to reweave. They eyed it with ramp attention, switching between dabbing the wound and watching it heal with scrutiny.

It seemed like it would not need any stitching, and for that Archways was grateful. Whiteburst was already hovering nervously by their shoulder with equally nervous clicking and worried rumbles. Who knew how many more tears could cascade out of them. 

Once they felt more confident that the hole would close on its own, Archways left the pad on the tear and turned to Whiteburst.

 “Last will wake up. If Last wake before me, wake me.” They said with a chip in their chirp, too tired to form the words smoothly. Whiteburst nodded with no small amount of worry, but sat near them nonetheless to diligently guard the two.

With that, Archways laid down with a scrub at their eyes and soon fell fast asleep despite the thoughts that tossed and turned in their head.

Leaving Whiteburst alone to ponder.

They watched the two as their chests rose and fell, the only thing they could now see that showed the difference between sleep and death, and eyed the odd container that Archways had failed to put away. They didn’t want to wake them too soon and so quietly tried to pick up the items to put them away.

But where Archways’ fine motor skills were poor, Whiteburst’s were even poorer, as they tried and failed to get their cloak to curl and grip the items with the appropriate finesse. Whatever frustration they felt was drowned out by their fear of waking the two and soon they gave up on the task. 

It now left them quite alone with their thoughts however, even with the Flower’s company. Emotions tumbled and turned with a roar in their chest, anguish still rolling through like the storm despite the tears having faded. Accompanying it were flashes of some light feeling that had no reason to twist and tie itself into knots like it was when it should’ve sat with warmth any other time.

The light feeling should have felt delight at Last hugging them, but while their companion’s hug had warmth in it, it was marred by a bitter lonely cry. A cry that wailed for something, someone, but whoever it was, Whiteburst was not them and so no reply from who it was meant for could be given.

The cry, that aching cry, had been so deeply keening with love and despair that… some sort of vision had passed onto them through the touch-given communication. 

It had startled them, so used to just emotions being shared, that they could only weep at the blurry thing they saw. Another living ancestor, where they were they didn’t know, but the place hardly mattered. The other ancestor had the same creeping white on their face as Last, but instead of splitting raggedly down the middle of their face it cupped below their right eye and curved down to cradle their whole chin. And oh, whoever they were, they were hurt with an old wound; a healed-over crack that started at their golden band and went straight down through a dimmed, squinted left eye, before disappearing where chin and hood met. And through that broken, old weary face was an expression so drenched in saddened love-a love that had weathered the worse and still held steadfast-that they could do nothing but weep. 

“ Yes, I can keep singing… for you I’d do anything”

A stray tear fell from their still thoroughly soaked face and they wiped it away absentmindedly. For though they couldn’t quite parse all the individual words, they knew enough. So they sang where the other could not.

Their curiosity of the new still held strong but now a sense of urgency plagued their adventurous spirit. Last weeped and called and cried for a person unknown to Whiteburst and a sense of creeping dread flooded their mind. Whoever they were, they were not with Last now so they must be lost or in danger.

Where they might be or what sort of danger they were in, they were unsure.

The scraps of what they knew pointed towards the Other Mountain, and of the strange round things in the pack on Last’s back. Of the Flower when she was whole saying something that made Last’s voice crack and quicken their pace. And of a long trek just for Archways to bring them here. 

But why here and not the Other Mountain? 

Was there something here, some clue? Or had some plan been changed after the Flower had spoken? …They could not pick up the pieces that made up the words the others spoke fast enough.

“ Poor, poor deary.” Came the quieted plucks of the Flower. She had already been quite quiet when she was whole but now she struggled to be above a whisper. In their amusings of the Flower’s voice, a thought came like a zap and made them jolt in place.

The Flower must know! Something -she- had said caused Last to quicken and search! Did she know of the missing one? Surely she must!  

With hushed clicks and scratch-stomping of the sand, Whiteburst beckoned the Flower over. She hovered as still as the mountain, just for a moment, before she curiously twirled towards the white cloak.

She made a quizzical sound, if it was a word or not they had no clue, but it hardly mattered as Whiteburst got to work. They had swiftly and surely decided that the most important thing to draw first was that of the missing person’s face. So they drew it, larger and more detailed than any other face they had ever drawn, and thumped the sand next to it insistently once they were done.

“La-!” They started loudly but dampened their volume as they remembered the sleeping figures. “Last know this. Last call this. Gone, gone, gone . Where ?”

The Flower didn’t respond at first, merely freezing eerily in place, as if time had stopped and no wind could move her , before unfreezing and pacing the air. Whiteburst tried waiting patiently as she paced, but they couldn’t quite tame their leg that tapped incessantly.

“ Ah… please… forgive me. More than a little stunned to see you perfectly replicate that one’s mug. Such a thing is rare to pass along!” The Flower strainly strung in soft plucks and clucks that made no sense in any which way to them. They knew they should be a bit more patient, but they couldn’t help it as they restlessly swayed.

“ Where? Where gone one? Name gone one?” Whiteburst clicked and clacked. The Flower stilled their pacing before a sad little shake was their answer and what should’ve been a light laugh came out as a broken chuckle.

“ Oh.. oh oh ooh…… ” The Flower clicked quietly, a silence yawning wide as she hovered sadly and sweetly. Yet the silence would end. With great effort, words that they recognised squeaked awkwardly out of the Flower.

“Theiir..NaMe. Men-tor” Spoken like a violin not properly tuned with a bow dragged across the strings with inexperience, the name of the missing one was now known to them.

“Men-tor.” Whiteburst repeated, not with the same squeak but certainly the same affliction, and something within them surged to life.

They were the Protector of Last. But they were not the first protector, not the first to sing to and hug Last, for there was another Protector out there. The one known as Men-tor came before them, had cared for and loved Last long before them, and had been with them during their greatest hours of need.  

And Men-tor was in trouble.

Out there, somewhere, lost and in danger.

Oh long lost protector.

Whiteburst would bring them home.

.

.

.

Last blinked bleary through crusted eyes. Their sleep-laden mind provided little in remembering where they were or what they had been doing. The only thing they had was an ache in their chest that felt unusually calm.

Their hearing provided more information first, a shuffling of sand next to them and what sounded like someone being rattled around. A grumble and a groan with a huff  in response. Of someone muttering ‘I know I say wake me when Last wakes but let me wake slower ’ and a more intense shaking in response.

They knew that voice and, with a little more time, they remembered where they were. That they were in the dangerous underground where rogue machines roamed and any and all sleepiness was shattered in an instance.

They startled upright onto their knees with a gasp choking on fear and whipped their head around in search of danger. Yet there was no more danger to be seen, nothing but the gentle hum of the golden shields. Still their light pounded in their chest as they searched for their companions.

It wasn’t hard as the sound of grumbling was rather distinct in such a deserted place and soon they found a rather miffed Archways and a rather pleased Whiteburst with a giggling petal.

Last couldn’t find their voice right away, still trying to remember why they had fallen asleep (and why Archways had too it seems), when the rest of them caught up. They hissed and winced as pain twinged up their cloak and when they lifted it to inspect the forgotten injury a pad flopped lamely off and onto the sand. They stared at the pad blankly, clearly used, and went back to their original goal of inspecting their wound.

Clearly someone had tended to it, most likely Archways, as there was barely a tear left. It still hurt, understandably as the supply of painkillers had dried up ages ago, but it certainly didn’t send any sharp stabs of pain like it had earlier. 

“Last wake! Wake Archways! Go go go! Find find find!” Whiteburst chanted with complete seriousness at a groggy red cloak. They headbutted them to their feet and then marched over to Last with that blaze in their eyes impossibly brighter than ever.

Yet Last did not miss the sheen that covered their face. 

And Last’s concern did not go unnoticed by Archways.

“They thought you died, did not know sleep.” Archways yawned. Last still could not recall why or when they had fallen asleep. Their silence must’ve been telling, as Archways paused and tilted their head in scrutiny. Under such a stare, a bout of shame bubbled up in them though they couldn’t pinpoint the reason. Surely something had happened, some other trouble that they have brought unfairly to the red cloak, yet their mind refused to provide details. Seeking avoidance, their eyes fell down and to the side..

…only to be met face to face with the image of their mentor.

They froze immediately, physically and mentally, every bit of them grinding to a screeching halt.

The only thing to stop them from spiraling completely out of control was Archways.

“No no no. No more far away stare!” Archways whipped their cloak between Last and the face of their Mentor. Last’s gaze followed the cloak up to the eyes of its owner but couldn’t help but shrink away the second their’s met with Archways’. The glimpse they caught was of a spark smoldering in kindling, raring to blaze into a great fire, but with fuel still a touch too damp to make it so. What had they done to finally hit the boundaries of the red cloak’s patience?

“Last.”Archways clicked firmly, yet it didn’t have the harsh gnash of anger behind it. It never did. “Tell me what happens when you have your far away stare.”

“F.. far away stare?” Last mumbled distantly.

“Far away stare is… what I named that look you get when stuck on things not of the now. It was… very very bad just before you sleep.”

Last’s eyes swept the floor, mind trying to look for any clue, any at all, any but that of the visage of their mentor. They still could not recall what had happened. Sure they knew of their own tendencies to get swept away by their turmoiled thoughts and emotions, but it was disorienting nonetheless to have them and then not remember. Had they somehow blacked out? It would not be the first time that that had happened… 

“I… can’t remember.” Last admitted after a long pause. They could see out of the corner of their eye Archways blink in what they assumed was disbelief. It would also not be the first time someone didn’t believe their words, that they had truly forgotten something so important.

“Last…” came the concerned whisper. “You.. may have…” Archways swayed and wobbled their cloak uncomfortably as they hmmed and strummed uneasily, the words that followed came out in an equally uneasy squeak.

“ Hugged Whiteburst.” 

It was Last’s turn to blink in disbelief.

The unspoken ‘ What.’ was crystal clear on their face as Archways finally approached and kneeled to be face to face with the living ancestor.

“I think-. No. I know you thought they were your Mentor.” Archways spoke gently. “Yet you could not see they were not.”

Last could not find their voice and if they did they wouldn’t have had a clue of what to say. They had hugged Whiteburst in the belief that they were their dead Mentor? Yet they still could not remember. It left an uncomfortable twinge in their light that bumped and jostled about in their chest. But they could put a name to what must’ve happened. All the kin that they had ever known had suffered from it too.

“My.. my Mentor called them ‘Awakened Terrors.’” Last managed but could not elaborate. The uncomfortable twinge jerked about uneasily at the mere action of saying the term. But Archways deserved to know, to know that their hauntings would snatch their mind away and thrust them into past terrors.

“Awakened Terrors?” Archways repeated back.

But Last could not go forward as the twinge turned into a thump that clawed on walls in a desperate attempt to escape. All they could do was cast down their gaze to stare at the image of their Mentor. But it hardly did any good as mist started to gather in the corner of their eyes.

“Last?” It could’ve been Archways or it could’ve been Whiteburst. It hardly mattered as the twinge turned thumping slammed against the flimsy dam of an old hurt.

“It’s.. it’s when..” Last tried to explain the term. But they couldn’t detach their emotions enough to do so, couldn’t speak it calmly or quietly or logically at all. 

“I- I..” came the choked sobs. “I miss them.”  

It was not what they wanted to say at all. They wanted to explain the hauntings, Archways deserved it, but that thump in them turned to something wailing and frail.

But before they could break down further, spiraling with grief that was never given the time needed, a shadow fell over Last. When they looked up, it was to Whiteburst hovering near them with a crease in their brow harboring sorrow. Last wasn’t quite sure what to expect, maybe some jumbled half-known words or some flaring shout, but not what they did next.

With a gentleness as light as a feather, Whiteburst leaned in very softly to give a brief head-bunting. It lasted all of a second and then they stepped away.

It was plenty long enough to feel their emotions.

Sorrow

Compassion

The desire to help at all costs

And a will so strong it grounded Last in an instant.

“We find Men-tor.” Whiteburst said and Last knew why their will was so strong. They must know, with how they had apparently clung to them, of the turmoil drenched into their very being. They must know that Last had cried for someone else, for their Mentor… the mentor that never came back.

“Whiteburst… my-” It hurt to say it to them with how their eyes were so bright with innocent naive spirit to help. “...my Mentor is dead .”

But instead of deflated defeat and despair and resounding sorrow, their eyes turned firm and strong with greater motivation.

“Do you know?” Whiteburst challenged. “Do you know know they dead? Or think?”

“Whiteburst.. They never came back home.” Last tried to gently disway them, lest the heartbreak destroy them with its truth.

“Do not know Men-tor dead. Gone long, no know if dead. Men-tor lost? Men-tor hurt? Men-tor hurt hurt to go home? You not know.” Whiteburst rambled as they gestured passionately. 

“You do not know Men-tor dead.”

It was said with brazen conviction. A challenge to the deep seated assumption, demanding of proof, of evidence, that confirmed that the assumption was true.

Last could not provide that proof.

All they had were last words,

Damning last words that promised two outcomes,

Last did not want to voice the odds, though they did want to lessen the impact of those odds, that if their Mentor was alive it was slim to none. The world was a harsh place, devoid and barren, with little room for error.

One small misstep was all it would take for anyone to meet their demise.

Even if Archways tried to assure them it wasn’t so anymore.

Yet…

“I.. suppose we’ll find out one way or the other..” They eventually mustered up to say. “But please.. Do not get your hopes up.. Mentor has been gone for nearly 200 years.” 

It was a somber statement, just stating the facts, but they could see Archways churning that number in their mind. 

“How many days is a year?” Archways inquired with that tilt of theirs.

“365.”

“365?!”

“Yes.”

“200 of 365 days?!?!”

Oh they could see Archways’ brain fry.

There was a good reason they believed so firmly they were dead and hopefully that length of “How Long” was enough to at least dampen their expectations.

“Let’s uh.. Let’s just move on shall we?”

Last rose to their feet and though Archways was stunned they still helped pack away the first aid kit. They took a second to steady their mind before activating the statue. They had not forgotten the question that must be asked. The question that would decide whether the trail stayed frozen or would begin to thaw.

Had their Mentor been here?

Where had they gone?

Would they ever know?

“Last.”

They flinched at the sound of Archways’ voice. Once again they were getting lost in their thoughts and a bubble of self-imposed disappointment rose within them. They had yet to explain in full just what they went through, what they kept going through…

“Yes?” They answered as neutrally as they could. They did not want Archways to think that their own disappointment was directed at them.

The reply back that they got was once again not one that they had expected. It wasn’t quite as gentle as Whiteburst’s but it held the same softness all the same, a small head bump to as high as Archways could reach that was even briefer than Whiteburst’s but held just as much emotion. 

Not quite sorrow, but heartfelt understanding

Concentrated compassion directed into blanketing comfort

Desire just as strong to help in any way they can

And an equally strong will that could lift even the most downtrodden of spirits.

They could not voice their thanks, only their sorrys, but that mattered little here for the thanks did not need to be heard to be felt.

With a little more strength to their soul, Last stepped into the light to face fate.

.

.

.

.

.

With a mind still freshly raw and tender, Last once more found themself in the monotone spirit world. At first, they couldn’t see where their dead kin was, and had to force down the instinct to flinch when they realized they were at their side rather than in front of them.

The expression they bore was gentle and firm with respectful kinship. It was not cold, or demanding, but peaceful and knowing.

They gave a small nod to Last, letting them take the floor.

The calmness they excluded put them uncharacteristically at ease. 

“You were an archivist, correct?” Last somehow said evenly.

“I was.” Their dead kin confirmed.

“Would you perchance have met my mentor? I.. never learned their name but I do know their glyph.” Last asked with apprehension. The spirit merely nodded and with a wave of their cloak a blank piece of paper and a flat-headed ink brush materialized which they then handed to Last.

The material was strange. Last highly suspected that it was made of the same stuff as the rest of this plane of existence. The paper was far too smooth, like water given a definitive shape, and the brush’s ink ran just as smooth and seemed to have no need for the ink to be replenished.  

But It was not the time to ponder such things, for Last had to work quickly.

So with expectations low, Last drew their Mentor’s glyph. It was a long shot without their true name, the surge of the final pilgrimage would’ve seen many come through these gates, but it was something. And something was better than nothing at all.

Once they were done, Last handed back the paper and brush and held their breath as the spirit studied the symbol. They were expecting a sigh and a shake of their head, apologies that they could not help, to be left without a clue. It was the most probable outcome after all. So they kept their hopes, their unheard pleads, pushed as far down as they could go.

They braced for the truth.

For truth can be a brutal thing.

Instead, it was recognition that flashed across the ancestor’s face.

“I will say, they did not come through here…” They said with a spreading grin. “But they did leave a message.”

A message? A message? They held their breath longer, still tense but now with a glint of excitement that steadily scaled the walls of the hole where hope was buried deep, as the spirit made the first paper disappear and a new one materialized. It was not made of the essence of this monotone land, it was something far more plain and oh so very real , where it crinkled and shone with a dulled brown and not in glimmering whites and silvers.

“They snuck it into someone else’s belongings and it perplexed me for all this time.” They handed the all too real paper to Last and their cloak shook uncontrollably with giddiness. Upon the smallest of glances, Last knew for a fact it was their writing. 

Though more specifically, their coded writing.

They didn’t even need to see their glyph signed at the bottom with how distinct it was.

“I’m… hoping you can understand it?” The spirit inquired, they too locked in suspense. Last could only nod at first as the giddiness overtook them and a shine came to their eyes. For once… for once things felt like they were going right.

“Yes! I mean yes. I- well my Mentor was a linguist as was their mentor before them. So while this looks like a bunch of nonsense at first glance with little rhyme or reason, it's actually using words pulled from other languages and phonetically translating them!” Last rambled. “It may be written in the Mountain language but it’s really using words from the Sky people, the Ocean people, the Islanders, the Plants, etc.”

“… it would take a while for me to translate this in its entirety.” Last ramble slowed as they tried to piece together what the words meant. “The code they created shifts from one language to another and the same word could be presented in multiple ways.”

“Well, then take it with you.”

“Hmm?” 

“My time with you is limited.” The spirit reminded them. “Besides, I have no doubt it was meant for you not me.”

The second the spirit finished speaking, the world faded to the tapestry once more. It showed the aftermath of the battle over the city with everyone having fallen dead. No one won, for there was no one to celebrate a pointless victory.

But the tapestry continued on past it. 

Their age had ended in tragedy. Yet it was just one end and soon the bodies were replaced with empty sand and space

A single star fell down.

Quietly and gently, 

With none of the awe and grandiose like how their kin had formed from the mountain’s power.

And there stood Last.

As they had when they were newly born.

…

There should have been one other star with them.

They hadn’t started in this world alone.

.

.

.

.

Awaseteira watched as Last faded out of their realm and waited in silence. While they very much would’ve loved to know of the mystery that was of the message left behind, there was a more urgent mystery to solve.

They could sense the others as they appeared one by one to stand in silence with them.

Any second now…

“ Hello !” An unknown voice cried. Loud enough to make out but distant enough that it echoed and faded quickly.

All at once, four of the five present shouted back their own hellos and questions and calls. 

“Shush, the lot of you.” Awaseteira chided and soon everything fell quiet again.

And stayed quiet.

Whoever had called did not call again.

But they would, wouldn’t they? 

There was one last ancestor, one last place where the group would travel through to get to the Mountain. And whoever called would call again for Last.

“Do you think it’s their Mentor?” One of them said, but they shook their head.

“Sounded much too young.” They remarked. “Come on. No time to waste, let’s get Bob in on this.”

Chapter Text

Archways sat patiently with the others as they all waited for Last to come back into their body. They stretched their cloak high above their head, trying to dissipate the last of their sleepiness that clung stubbornly to them despite everything.

Soon enough, the focus began creeping back into Last’s eyes as the light of the circle shrunk until it disappeared completely.

Well, almost completely, a ball of light seemed to linger in Last’s lap even after they had regained their awareness of the physical world. It wasn’t until Last had gently grabbed the edges of the ball of light that it faded and an object was revealed.

A single piece of paper.

A single piece of paper with clear significance as Last trembled with a tumble of emotions that Archways wasn’t sure if they should be concerned about. It was clear they were overwhelmed, potentially on the verge of tears, with a look that screamed of apprehension.

But it was all accompanied with a smile to their eyes.

“Last?” Whiteburst was the first to speak up. Last perked up at the sound of their name, a little bit dazed and still getting their bearings, but blessedly grounded.

“I…” Last said, but scrunched their eyes in concentration , trying to find where they should even start. “ We have a clue.”

Archways could hear the disbelief in their voice, disbelief that was muddled and dampened with a trembling relief and something bittersweet. They wandered over to Last and encouraged Last to continue as they leaned over to study what was on the paper. What was on it was scrawling letters, words , but they had no understanding of them. It was one of Archways main burning curiosities still, to learn to read , but Last had insisted on teaching them how to speak first and read second.

“What does it say?” Archways asked. 

“I have to decode it first.” Last said as they stared at the writing with a zeroed in laser focus, so intense that Archways had the distinct feeling that they might lose track of the world around them for many, many hours.

“Decode it?” They inquired further.

“This isn’t written like it should be basically. My Mentor developed a code to make it harder for any potential enemies to intercept their messages and to use them against us.” Last explained casually while Archways let that fact settle within them. “I’m the only one left alive who knows how to read this.”

It couldn’t go unfelt that the fact scrambling up your words was a thing that had to be done in the past to protect yourself filled them with unease, but Archways let that feeling go, reminding themself that life in war could not have been an easy thing, and soon their fascination for the concept swelled to the forefront of their mind.

“How hard is it to read?” Archways questioned, some child-like wonder slipping in their voice. They wondered if Last would be willing to teach them their Mentor’s code at some point in the future.

“Extremely.” Last said immediately. “And I’m a little rusty with it myself. This message is short though, so it shouldn’t take me too much time to decode the whole thing…”  

“That?” Whiteburst’s head suddenly poked into view as their cloak gave an equal poke to a set of words on the page.

“That is ‘give a’ but really it is referring to a foreign word ‘ kīva’. It means ‘God’ but can also mean ‘Tall One’ however combined with the words ‘anti surreal’ which is really ‘ an-ta sur-ra’ or ‘Stone’ -a heavenly boundary sort of stone- we get the context that the text here is referring to one of our Mountains since, functionally, Tall Ones and Mountains fill a similar role in their respective societies as creators of life so it’s more or less factually correct to call a Mountain a “Stone Tall One”.” Last rambled passionately. “In short, “give a anti surreal” is “Mountain”.

“... that is hard to read…” Archway mumbled, perplexed and in awe. “Are all the words that hard?”

“Yes, and frankly I’ll have to take this back home to translate all of it… a few of these words simply aren’t coming to me so I’ll have to refer to a couple of books to figure them out…” Last’s words drifted away as they scrutinized the text.

“..Know words for Last?” Whiteburst piped up. They sort of understood what was going on, they knew those blocky scribbles were words, and they knew they were important. And with how Last’s body had shook with unspoken but loud emotion, the words written were likely Men-tor’s.

Last made an affirmative hum, before catching on that they hadn’t quite listened, paused as they rewound the words to properly do so, and then they gave a more present nod.

“I see they used the more formalized version of my name by way of title - ‘to The Endling’.”

Archways caught the way their chirp chipped at the tail end of ‘Endling’. They also caught the way a frown darkened their eyes as well as the barely contained full bodied huff that wanted to leave them. They barely had time to ask what about the formal name gave them such displeasure before Last was folding the paper away neatly into the bag. 

They floundered on what to do.

There were many questions they wanted to ask;

Of those foreign words and who they had belonged to,

Of the sour emotions for the word Endling and what it meant,

But most importantly to bring back attention to Awakened Terrors.

Last had broken down just trying to say meaning to the term and knowing how often it happened Archways desperately wanted to know, to understand, so that they could simply help in some way. Last deserved to have such kindness.

But Last moved on, silent refusal to address their own pain.

Pain…

“Wait!” Archways balked. Last skidded in the sand for a split second before turning around to face them.

“How is your cloak?” Archways clicked. “It will heal fine?”

“Oh, uh..” Last said awkwardly as they shifted to lift and inspect their cloak once more. “I mean it should. Might be a tiny hole left afterwards but it’ll hardly hinder me.”

“But does it still hurt ?” Archways pressed.

Their answer was more awkwardness as they swayed uncomfortably from side to side and avoided their eyes. So Archways stayed staring, patience able to wait out the avoidance.

“Stings a little…”Last eventually mumbled out, not really wishing to be heard, not wishing to thrust more worry onto their companions.

“Will more concentrated light help?” Archways replied. “Lots of it in area ahead.”

Last remained quiet for a time. Not quite gone from the moment, simply thinking hard, before they eventually responded.

“Would it be alright to take some with?” They mumbled out loud.

“I don’t see why not?”

“Well it is a temple so… well I don’t know if it would be considered rude since it is -or was- considered a sacred place..” Last mumbled out some more.

“…Actually now that I think.. would it stay in the bottle?” Archways peeped in thought. “Because of the loop?”

“Ah… right.”

“We will test then! I mean it a lot. One bottle full would not be missed.” Archways said with curiosity but sheepish waffling, but then they turned serious in a flash. “Now, does your mind still hurt?”

“My- my mind?” Last tensed, cloak tightening slightly.

“…Last you could not explained “Awaken Terrors”.” Archways pointed out, pressing bluntly but gently on the subject.

“I.. I umm..” Last turned slightly away, a little more tense, instinctively waiting to shelf the subject away all together. 

“It’s when.. when a..” their voice trembled, and they felt so weak that they couldn’t, not even now, bring light to their pain. “They’re old ‘hauntings’ .” They decided in the end to use Archways’ words.

They couldn’t say it as their Mentor had described it.

“Hauntings that… come about when..when.” Their breath quicken and they found they couldn’t continue. With a defeated shake of their head, they stared at the floor feeling like a useless fool.

“When something make you remember them?” Archways pieced together and completed it for them.

“Yeah.” Last replied lamely, still ashamed they couldn’t say it wholly by themself.

But Archways merely nodded in understanding with no judgement. They wished to know more, wished that maybe one day Last could brave their pain and tell them those painful hauntings so that they could heal fully. To know why Whiteburst flying above had caused one, to know why they cried out for someone not there, to understand fully what memories war machines dredged up.

They did not believe it would be today, or tomorrow, or even a year from today that they would open up. Yet weren’t all things taken with one small step as the start?

“Last be okay?” Whiteburst brought the two out of their thoughts.

Archways looked Last in the face, the same question on their mind. Last’s face was still cast down, eyes lacking any shine, a million things weighing down their shoulders.

“I’ll.. I’ll be okay.” They said with a voice that promised but didn’t believe. “I’ll be okay.”

Archways felt the words were not wholly directed to them, not to the now.

“We are almost to Mountain.” Archways said, their own thoughts running circles. “Fastest way to get back to start of path but… not easy place to go through.”

How would Last fare in the snow? Of the war machines’ constant patrol? Of the little death in the storm that whipped and howled? Archways didn’t know. Last was their first companion that they didn’t know with full confidence that they could make it.

If and only if because their hauntings would hold them back.

“Go now?” Whiteburst once more piped up, impatiently shuffling in the sands. Right, how long had they waited for the two to rise from their slumber?

Archways looked to Last and waited for them to nod. They hesitated, unsure, but a flash of resolve shone in their eyes and they nodded in the end.

The gates to the temple welcomed the wanders with the soft warmth of their lights.

Chapter Text

With a somber silence, the group made their way through the gate and into the temple.  Last initially kept their eyes on the ground, but the gentle chime of lights turning on overhead had them peering upwards.

They were much like the ones of their home, if only more well preserved. None of them flickered or failed to light like some of theirs did, signalling that there had been no structural damage to them or the temple or that - at least when the loop first began - had recently had maintenance with how pristine each one was.

They felt a wave of homesickness hit them.

Which really didn’t help with their already poor mood. It was only when they heard no more swishing of steps displacing sand that they looked down and realized they had stopped in their tracks when they became distracted by the lights and in turn the group had stopped in theirs.

“It’s nothing.” They assured, but they couldn’t get their eyes to meet the ones gazing at them quizzically. Without another word, they started forward again, squeezing passed the group whose eyes never left them.

Leave it be, they thought but didn’t speak. Prayed that a new conversation on their emotions and mind would not start so soon after the last. And yet the act of not speaking left something twisting in their chest - not enough to break through their walls but enough that it was uncomfortable.

That feeling was all but forgotten when Last finally left the hallway and into the main chamber, they immediately stopped in their tracks once more to crane their head higher and higher. It took a second, but they eventually found the ceiling way up above them…

…With no discernible way up.

Would they need to fly to reach the top? Were they even supposed to get to the top? If they squinted, and closed their bad eye, they could just make out what looked like a bridge that connected to the central pillar and likely to an exit.

Certainly, yes, they must go up.

A chirp from ahead of them stopped them from taking flight.

When they brought their gaze down to look, they found the other three in front of a mural. With a head toss, Whiteburst beckoned them over and Last silently obliged.

They paused just shy of standing on top of the buried platform and wordlessly gave a questioning ping.

“This will help us go to top,” Archways started to explain. “After mural shows, light floods in. We will float.”

Last nodded and made no remarks as they stepped closer and helped activate the stones that would reveal the hidden mural.

With a wave of golden light, the mural’s image appeared.

For Archways, It was something that they normally more or less ignored since they knew these images like the back of their cloak. Truthfully, the only reason they had now was because it was Last’s first journey through here and it was just as significant to pay attention as with any other first-timer.

They were glad they paid attention. For the mural showed an image that was unfamiliar despite the scene being more or less the same as any other time.

An image that’s message was the same, but its depiction was unusual.

And yet wasn’t this whole journey saturated in the unusual? Similar yet not, unpredictable despite the same path trekked, but unique as all the others that they had had a hundred times before.

For instead of one of the ones from now being etched upon the mural, it was someone from the before.

From the single lone star fell not Archways or Whiteburst…

But Last.

They hardly had a chance to regard it in perplexion when the clanks and clinks of mechanisms awakened and flooded the first portion of the tower with liquid light. 

Their attention quickly shifted to Last who flailed momentarily as they adjusted to the sensation of floating. Last jerked about awkwardly, both from trying to wobbly tread and from shying away from the mural - distancing themself from it by pointedly directing their attention to the concentrated light. 

Seeing as the light was not actually wet like water, simply thick, it seemed safe to open up their pack and retrieve the near-empty bottle without any of the frailer stuff getting damaged. With a muffled pop, Last had opened up the bottle which swiftly filled and was closed just as swiftly. 

Then, they inspected their cloak and the recent torn hole. The threads that had yet to heal glowed dimly, then brightly, before they reached across the gap to intertwine with the other snapped halves. It did not hurt, but the tingly-ness did border on uncomfortable.

Within the short amount of time between them starting and ending that thought, the hole had closed up completely, leaving nothing but some tenderness behind.

Then the rest of them started to tingle.

Perplexed, then alarmed, then curious, Last inspected the rest of their much older tears. One by one, the broken edges of each gap started to glow, ancient snapped ends suddenly revived as if the wounds had been fresh and started to reach across to the other ends. The larger gaps had difficulty, but the too short threads then began lengthening of all things, the abundant amount of light allowing them to regrow despite the fact that the frayed tips should have been long dead and unreactive.

One by one, all the old tears began to close up and heal.

It was remarkable, and Last couldn’t help but stare as their cloak inched closer and closer to how it once was so long ago.

But the magic started to wane when a sudden feeling of wrong hit them.

Not at the wounds closing up, no.

But alarm bells started sounding off somewhere from within. Louder and more urgent as the seconds ticked by.

What was wrong? It was not some panic nor some terrible memory, and they had no qualms about their mangled appearance fixing itself up for the better - no love for the scars.

It was only when a familiar feeling started to really make itself known and for them to realize that they had not processed anything the others had said nor that they had been saying anything at all that they had an inkling of what was happening.

Shock.

They were going into shock.

With sense of mind and body fading fast, they numbly concluded that the abundance of concentrated light was not quite agreeing with them.

Without a word, they swam up (or were they still flying?) onto the nearest platform - which unfortunately had a glyph on it and the sudden surging addition had their legs feeling weak and shaky. It took them a moment to steady themself, but once they did they flew into the hollowed out part of the central pillar and simply.. sat. 

Didn’t make a peep or a fuss, simply silent , as they weakly struggled to even have a singular thought.

They almost didn’t notice at all when a golden petal zipped into their line of sight. It took them a few moments longer for them to realize she was speaking, but for the life of them they could not quite make out what she was saying. Then Archways and Whiteburst came into view, worry clear on their faces, and they knew they were speaking too but the words continued to slip out of their grasp.

Last tried to speak back, but their chirp sounded too much, like it had boomed out of them instead of the even quiet tone of reassurance they were going for. But it was also too quiet like their voice was in another room entirely.

They didn’t want the group to worry, but no matter what the group would worry anyway.

How couldn’t they? Not when their eyes were vacant  or their chirp was nonsensical. Archways and Whiteburst struggled to understand what had happened. The strangely emotional reaction to the mural was one thing but another thing altogether to watch Last’s tenseness unnaturally lax within seconds. 

The only one who had any clue what was going on was the Flower.

But to be sure, she pressed up against Last’s chest who worryingly offered no resistance - listening to the thrum of their glyph which gave them life. It was fast, too fast, and the pulses too weak. Pulling off, she trailed along their threads, noting their appearance and feel. The threads were thicker and fuller than before but that wasn’t necessarily a good thing as the fabric was strained - like trying to get seasoned wood to bend and twist like it was still green and fresh off the branch.

She made as loud of a sound as she could to get the others' attention. Whiteburst snapped towards her while Archways’s gaze lingered before tearing away from Last. 

“LasT. Oveer waTerED .” She squeaked out. Whiteburst gave a quizzical look of downright confusion but the Flower was thankful that Archways had an immediate look of understanding.

In the time that Archways had been at Last’s home, Last had taught them some bare minimum plant caring information. One was that plants needed water but the amount varied depending on the species of plant. Cacti could survive on very little, but moss needed to stay relatively moist. 

To swap the amount was to make both sick.

And if Last was overwatered-

“I. Geet. hElp.”

The two had no chance to respond before the Flower zipped away. Whiteburst stayed near Last as Archways attempted to follow the Flower but as she dipped into the liquid light below, her now shining form blended into the flecks of light floating around. 

Still, they tried to re-spot her.

They squinted and searched about. It was not long until the disturbance of sand caught their eye. However, after a couple of seconds, it was gone, yet they didn’t have to wait long until more sand was displaced. 

It went like that for a while -far too long for their comfort- until Archways and Whiteburst heard a triumphant strum and the Flower came ricocheting up and out of the light…

… with a friend in tow.

Archways had… very little idea of what the familiar creature was supposed to be. It sort of had the body layout like one of those massive cloth whales with a ‘head’, a long serpentine body, and a set of ‘wings’. But it was not made of cloth, stone, or plant, but of strange shapes like a bunch of glyphs that decided they wanted to explore the world too.

The crescent moon head clicked its two points together before observing the Rythulian before it. The Flower insistently harped at it as it lingered in the liquid light, a touch of red in her voice as it continued to hesitate. 

Archways figured it did not do well out of the liquid light as they’ve never once seen it out of it.

Eventually it gave a reverbed sigh and floated out the light. 

It circled Last a couple of times, noting every detail and listening to the Flower’s quick-paced words of what had happened.  

Well… no more time to waste it seemed.

With a flourish of spinning, the strange creature called out to the over abundance of light within Last and pulled.

Little motes of light came off of them and the creature snapped up each one. It did this in cycles, pull some out and snap up the flecks of light, wait for a time to judge Last’s condition, and repeat - slowly drawing out the excess until Last became adequately aware again.

And when they did, they slumped forward with a weak warble before they started to shake uncontrollably. Both Archways and Whiteburst made to rush forwards, not having a plan but wanting to help regardless, when Last made a horrible clashing racket and a burst of light exploded off of them.

Both of them froze as Last fluffed up their cloak with a scrunch of their face in annoyance.

“… that was an awfully big sneeze .” Archways heard the Flower give a terse and tense giggle. 

… Last really needed to teach them how to speak plant because they had no clue what she said.

“Last okay?” They heard Whiteburst say with a quiver in their voice. They got a grunt in response as Last shook their cloak out repeatedly, shaking off more excess light that quickly dissipated in the air.

“Ooooh… that was NOT fun.” Last grumbled as they smoothed out their cloak. Some frazzled spots remained stubbornly fluffed up. Last did not say anything else after, simply flopping onto their back with a groan after giving up on a particular patch that refused to smooth out. 

The rest glanced around at each other in silence, unsure where to go from there after all that.

“How go up?” Whiteburst broke the silence after a time.

‘ Yes, how would they? ’ Archways thought to themself. If Last’s body reacts so badly to the concentrated light they might just have to skip the murals altogether and just fly up. 

But… Archways felt that showing the murals was of great importance -they are of great importance. What to do, what to do…

“I… should be fine.” Last mumbled, unknowingly answering Archways inner thoughts. “Just… let me get… used to it.”

Which was easier said than done. Now that the initial danger was gone, their whole body was now keenly sore, from the lingering uncomfortable tingling of old wounds healing to the dull throb of every thread on them still unused to the overflow of light.

But what hurt the most was their middle where excess light and water was stored within their body. So used to relying on so little for so long, it now cramped painfully and sent sharp stabs of pain with every beat of their glyph. Trying to roll on their side yielded worse results and they had to hold back a sharp whimper. 

If there was one thing they were glad for, it was that at least they did not have to deal with any sick that might’ve come out of them had they been born a bird.

They felt another spasm coming on as their body decided it was not quite done with getting rid of the excess of light.

So much for trying to smooth out their cloak…

They gave another full bodied sneeze and a new plume of light burst out of them.

Ow…

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow OW.

“Is… is there any thing we can do?” They heard Archways ask. Painkillers would’ve been nice… hooboy did they wish they had some painkillers right now… curse the books in their collection for having zero knowledge on how to make them! Well… there were some on herbal medicine.. but only in a foreign language for people of a different, fleshy, body set up.

“Last?” 

“Thinking…” They muttered in between the beats of slowly dulling but still sharp pain. “Not much… options.”

Archways and Whiteburst shared a look and, with a quiet sigh, Whiteburst flopped onto the floor next to Last. Archways gave a light chuckle and sat down next to them - the poor white cloak had clearly had enough of waiting around and now they were having to do more . But for Last they would do it.

“I guess.. we wait yes?” Archways asked to confirm.

“………Yeah.” Last groaned.

Archways nodded absently, mind now free to wander.

These last few moments rattled around chaotically in their head, vying for attention but not offering much in the way of substance. Last was safe, they were resting, they would be okay.

Yet how they laid on the ground and let out sharp, shuddering clicks with every involuntary squeeze of their body made them feel utterly useless .

And that was a feeling they were growing to loathe.

Time ticked achingly by, the feeling never waning, as Last’s body slowly adjusted and righted itself. The time it took for them to simply sit upright without feeling faint had been the worst as worry dug itself in deeply with every hitched breath and tremble.

To stand was a whole other beast, to walk seemingly impossible, yet Last would eventually manage it. First by crawling to the wall and using it for support, with Archways and Whiteburst hovering closely with every inch they took, readied in case they might fall, and clinging to the chain links as if for dear life.

It was only then, when their legs no longer wobbled unsteadily, that any of them could face the source of the problem.

Archways clicked unsurely as Last approached the edge of the central pillar, Whiteburst making a similar sound from the other side of Last.

“Well… time to get use to it.” Last barely managed to say above a whisper. With a tired sigh, they sat and gingerly dipped one foot in, making quiet clicks to count the seconds until they felt the beginnings of nausea, then pulling the foot out and clicking some more until the nausea passed.

They had to get used to it. Slowly, with time, they had to.

Archways chittered nervously every time Last showed even a hint of swaying. Whiteburst, in a bid to ease their own nerves, idly swished the liquid light around in circles - mindful not to splash. The Flower uttered nothing, only noting that the glyph-like creature still lingered, swimming about lazily but sticking close by just in case.

It was all dreadfully slow progress.

But never once did anyone in their little group leave Last’s side.

Not Archways, who had witnessed so much of them, of all their burdens, yet held fast to their side anyway.

Not Whiteburst, who had joined them despite knowing nothing of them at all and yet with the enthusiasm as if they had been friends since the very beginning.

Not the Flower, whose frail petal could hardly do anything at all and yet still she would travel by their side despite the dangers.

And Last could not tell if they were simply lucky or if Archways’ words really were true. 

…

They should’ve all left them by now. 

They buried their face in their knees as the soreness in every part of them tried to pry a keening cry out of them - threads begging them to stop, glyph pounding harshly in their chest wanting an escape from this hell, and middle sobbing in anguished defeat as it endured torture.

They almost didn’t feel the presence of two bodies leaning closer to them. It was a slow thing, as this all was, but eventually they would feel the barest of light pressure of them on either side.

Most of them wanted to flinch away, shove the offending bodies away from them, shout and scream and yell and cry.

But they were exhausted more than anything. 

They wanted to go home.

They felt a third presence then, too large to be the Flower, but far too light to be any other person they could think of.

With a blink of bleary eyes and sluggish mind, they raise their head from their knees with dulled curiosity.

And there, where nothing ought to be, was the ghostly image of someone like them - eyes closed as they leaned onto them with contentment. A midnight face that never had the chance to age and soft round cheeks that Last struggled to remember the exact shape of.

Last sighed, old and weary, and closed their own to indulge in this hallucination of theirs - leaning into the false presence and simply allowing themself to be.

Time ticked by, the aches of their body slowly fading, and soon the threads stopped their begging, their glyph eased into rest, and their middle settled.

For all the slow progress, it felt all too soon for them to get up and continue on.

Everything felt hazy and numb as Last followed Archways from one metal platform to the next, mindful of the schools of flyers hovering above each one, circling around and up until they reached the next mural. No one spoke, Archways and Whiteburst opting to simply brush up against the stones as they walked by them.

With the same glittering gold as the first, the second mural was revealed.

It was more unusual than the first. Both in the fact it broke away from the usual image that should be marked here and that the location shown was of nowhere that Archways knew of.

But in a way it was familiar.

Of exploring the world with someone.

Of Last exploring the world with someone.

But that someone was not Archways or Whiteburst. It was of another one from before, an ancestor, alive with a midnight face. 

Was it their Mentor? They didn’t know. They shared a look with Whiteburst who shared a similar look of uncertainty but their silent conversation was broken when Last moved between them.

Unlike with the first mural, Last did not shy away from this one.

No nervousness or want to shut out.

But there was a deep seated ache clear on their face. The way their eyes widened with their brows raised high before it all came crashing down into a furrow. They moved closer still, still staring at that mural with quiet mourning, quiet longing , before a quiet sigh left them and they drifted away.

Did they not wish to linger, at least not in the swirling light that could make them sick again, and searched for where they should go next.

What they had not expected to see was the sudden appearance of the cloth jellyfish. Where had they come from? They had not been here a second ago. Come to think of it, where had the flyers come from as well?

Nausea stopped them from wondering more and quickly they exited the light back onto the central platform.

It left them, however, trapped with the questioning eyes of the others.

“Last? That Men-tor?” Whiteburst clicked, oddly quiet and reserved. Last shook their head but offered nothing further to them. 

“Someone…” a flatter as Whiteburst struggled. “…else?”

A nod and nothing more.

“Name that one?”

Last did not respond at all. 

“ Know name that one?”

A delayed nod was the answer but still Last could not speak.

“Name…?” Whiteburst asked again tentatively. Once more there was a long drawn out silence as Last didn’t respond, Archways made to speak, add their voice to the question, when Last finally spoke.

“I can’t.” It was so quiet that they nearly didn’t hear it. Whiteburst and Archways waited to see if Last would say more but only more silence awaited them. And before any of them could even attempt to pry out the living ancestor’s thoughts or their inner turmoil, they got up abruptly and pointedly moved on towards the next mural.

Archways felt helpless, horribly helpless, as they scrambled after Last’s retreating form. The second mural had awakened one of Last’s hauntings for sure, one so clearly intense if they could not even tell them the name of that long ago companion. Dread began to well up in their glyph, dread for Last and the fate of their old companion.

But in Last’s need to get away from their hauntings, to move forward if only to distance themself from that mural, they would instead run headlong backwards and inevitably reveal just why that seemingly innocent mural caused them such great distress.

For the third mural would bare to the world the very heart of the haunting.

This mural had changed so drastically from the norm that it clashed and broke all expectations.

This one was not of joy in companionship, not of braving dark corners of the world with a friend, not of sharing a fun moment with a person you hardly knew.

It was Death.

It was Fear.

It was Cruelty .

It was of a terrified Last hiding as their companion laid dead. 

Killed.

This was not their Mentor, they knew with certainty now, it was someone Last had never once mentioned before, yet who held great importance nonetheless.

They knew because Last could not hide their tears. Could not hide the way that old festering wound tore open and spilled the rot of untreated remorse. Could not deny nor silence the memory of that monstrous moment. Nor could they try to lie about just what it meant. Could not tear away or scrub the surface clean of the other ancestors in this image that rode upon a war machine aimed at the slain one.

Though no words were spoken, it was clear.

This was the moment that made Last fear the skies.

This was the moment that played in front of their eyes when Archways called with a friendly hello to the yet-as-of-met Whiteburst back at those broken bridges. The moment that had seized their mind and made them yank Archways back with a frenzied force.

Last’s words from then rang in their head, how after the haunting had loosen its grip that Last questioned if the then-stranger Whiteburst was safe .

Archways tentatively floated towards Last, but Last shook their head hard and squeezed their eyes shut.

Last had many pains.

Yet Archways knew deep in their soul that this was one of their greatests .

Whiteburst caught their attention with a light touch on their shoulder. A silent ache in their connection filtered through, unsure what to do. Archways wasn’t sure either… but they knew they couldn’t leave Last alone with their pain.

Whiteburst nodded, a silent plan formed, and the two slowly floated to the sides of Last. Last flinched away from them, abruptly twisting around and away from them but it did not deter them.

With kindness and care, they both lightly reached out and held the worn edges of their cloak.

Last tensed, a torrent of emotions crashing and clashing and warring away in their light, a feat no easier to bare than the first time when the two had guided the ancestor up the old factory. 

This time they guided them away from the mural, not once letting go, and sat them upon a platform just above the waters.

Last tried to yanked their cloak away after they were sat down, but this time the two did not relent. Their grips were not harsh nor tight yet they did not let go, they refused to.

Last shouldn’t have had to bare this pain alone.

And Last paused when that thought passed to them. But fear and shame and wish to flee deep within themself surged in force, yet the two would not yield.

For Last did not know peace. 

And Archways desperately wanted to give even an ounce of theirs to them.

Even just a little tiny scrap.

For even flight could be achieved with just the barest inch of a scarf. Peace was much the same, even just a pinprick of light could be the start of something new and grand.

It didn’t have to be much.

Sometimes all one needed was to sit side by side with a friend and know your pain will never be some great burden that they would shun you for. A burden, yes, a great difficult one for sure, but never will it leave you to be abandoned. No matter how fierce the torrents, they would be there, ready to help should you fall, no matter how many times.

So they sat, listening to the soft hum of energy and the sparkling of gentle lights that shone and sang like that of stars.

It did not matter how long they stayed like that. All that mattered was feeling frantic light come to rest, taut threads loosen, and eyes dry of tears that needed to be drained from them. But a dull ache remained, a point in their light that would rear its ugly head again and again if left untreated, if things remained unsaid.

It must be said.

A memory, a memory of a person tarnished by tragedy.

“I… can’t.” Last said, low and quiet, with a small shake of their head. They felt the questions, the probing at that raw tender spot, and how the two acted so much like their Mentor as these two wanted nothing more than them to open up about this pain, of this person, so that they may help.

“I can’t.” They said firmly.

Truly, they couldn’t, they would break in their entirety if they dared to retell of a time when a warm smile was torn from this world untimely, unjustly, unfairly .

They couldn’t.

But they also couldn’t stop the snippets of that terrible memory from getting caught up in their storm of emotions and getting swept away to be delivered to the two still holding onto them.

A chime of hello, friendly and sweet, extending warmth with every letter of the word.

A shriek of terror, prolonged in its suddenness, and the following disquieting silence of empty space where once had been filled with joy.

Of waiting, and waiting, and waiting for the friend to return despite the fresh grave before them, the shock too great for a young mind to comprehend.

They couldn’t say it, they simply couldn’t, it would break them.

They wanted to remember their smile, not their death, but that smile was gone, the turning of time eroding away the memory and blurring it while damningly leaving their grizzly end untouched.

It wasn’t fair.

And two more minds agreed, it really hadn’t been fair, but it had happened anyway.

Yet, what about their smile? Last’s ? The other two asked.

Their smile had disappeared too, the carefree one, the one that wasn’t strained. They could see it, in those snippets, see it had been broken.

They knew they could not bring it back wholly, but perhaps their friend’s smile could be brought back with it if they tried. They were sure their friend would want them to regain theirs back, too. Maybe not right away, maybe not as it once had been, but still with that old shine of carefree if it could not be unburdened. Their friend would want them to regain happiness.

And it was something Last could not deny.

That long gone friend of theirs had always smiled brighter when they laughed with them. Smiled brilliantly when they pranced through the world together. That smile had always shone as bright as the sun with all they had done together simply because they had been together.

They may not be able to speak of them.

But they could try to smile with their own light, bright and shining, once more.

It was only then that they felt Last was ready. They could still feel the tenderness, the dulled ache, the exhaustion of emotions running too high for too long, but it was as ready as Last would be. It was time to move on. So gently, so gently, the two released their hold and took a step away from Last, to give them back their space.

And for the first time in a very long time, Last hated the emptiness that came with touch lost.

But a loud call would interrupt them, halting the twisting thing in them, and make them remember - at least briefly - the beauty still left in this world.

The Flower and the glyph creature came rushing out from some hidden area with something else in tow.

A beast of myth, sacred and majestic, came lumbering out of an offshoot chamber after the two with a happy warble, a massive sound from a massive body with six wings that dwarfed the whole group and inspired awe. Last could not help but bow low to the cloth whale, paying respect to what very well might be another who was the last of their kind like them, one who had been hidden away in this temple like Last had been hidden away in their home. The beast cared not for respect, instead it gave another happy call as it approached the group without hesitation and would’ve gently plowed into the whole group with a friendly head bump if not for the opening in the central pillar being too small for it to fit in.

Last watched it give another friendly call as it tried to squeeze the tip of its head in anyway. And then they watched as their three companions casually gave their own cheery hellos, bonking their foreheads to the beast’s own, who was all too happy for the attention.

Despite the emptiness that now gnawed at them, Last hung back, they could not bring themself to approach and do the same.

Yet that did not mean that when it was time to move on that they would bar themself from flying next to the sacred beast as it accompanied the group to the fourth mural.

Once the group landed on the platform they paused at the mural. What would it show? What would it tell? After the last one, there was now a certain tension in the air. However, they’d never know until it was activated.

Still they waited until Last had taken a steadying breath before lighting the stones.

And the golden lights revealed Last once more but this time in a place Archways finally recognized; Last’s home. But it must have been far into the past, for though Last stood amongst familiar plants and old ruins alike, birds too circled the air.

Birds that Last had, too, wept over the loss of.

But within the scene was one more detail, another ancestor that they could put a name to; Mentor. 

This was the moment they left some 200 years ago.

It was of them exiting the building, body faced towards the unknown, yet face lingering in Last’s direction. A bittersweet goodbye. One that neither seemed to want but was deemed necessary. A journey into the unknown to help heal the land.

A journey their mentor had yet to return from.

Last did not weep, quiet acceptance was all that could be read from their expression. Yet a light sparked when Whiteburst’s eyes blazed that determination once more. Last truly did not know for sure. Their Mentor’s fate was still something to be proven.

Their mentor might yet be found.

The group did not linger on this mural, Mentor was still somewhere out there, their final goodbye not yet set as stone.

The group flew upwards, towards the final mural, Last flying above the platforms with their cloth bridges as the other three took turns making sure their scarf stayed filled with their voices. A numbness was beginning to sink into them, exhausted from everything, but it would not get them wholly as the rest stuck by their side - something they felt they still didn’t deserve but something they couldn’t deny that they craved.

The chirps fell quiet as the group made it to the fifth mural, the last in this temple - but the following silence was calmer than the previous ones, the turmoil easing despite the apprehension from what this mural might show them. With a small nod towards the others, the lights were activated and once more the glittering gold revealed its hidden image.

The fifth mural was one that finally tracked with the narrative that these murals typically showed. It was them, all of them, together in this sacred place. 

And yet because it now followed the norm it now felt out of place. 

It seemed almost too peaceful.

For the tumbling emotions that had plagued Last the entire way, it definitely felt too peaceful. 

Almost.

But little sparks had been sent to smolder within them since this whole journey began. Sparks in the dark that crackled and flashed; points of light that nipped at the dark and craved more kindling. Hope had always been within them, struggling and weak, barely even there, yet still clinging on desperately despite the lack of fuel to feed it.

All because of chance. All because one moment, in one day, had decided to be different. And hope feeds on the unknown as much as fear did.

It was the potential of the unknown.

An unknown way to heal the land,

An unknown fate of their Mentor,

An unknown path to take.

Each splintered off into a million futures of unpredictability, of chances, of the ordinary turning extraordinary.

This was a mural of change, of hope for the better, of strangers undoubtedly turned friends. 

For it was extraordinary in its familiarity as it was ordinary in its strangeness.

The future was theirs to grasp.

And It was their choice to holdfast with strangers despite events of the past.

The group did not linger long on it. They had reached the top and it, too, would bring about its own unknowns that were familiar and strange and ordinary and extraordinary. 

As they found their footing on the steps, a deeper silence settled. A silence only interrupted by the sounds of their steps up the stairs and stones activating one by one.

And now, here, at the final statue, Archways felt their nerves tingle with apprehension.

For everything that had happened, for all the ups and downs, they still did not know, with certainty, if Last could make it to the Mountain.

But they would never know until they tried.

And with Archways and Whiteburst standing on either side of Last, they activated the last of the stones and stood firmly by them as glyphs -bright and golden- drifted down and amassed beneath them.

They could see Last look around in bewilderment as the golden glyphs descended all around them, they had no chance to make any remark before the world around them shifted in an instant from the golds and browns of the world to the silvers and whites of the spirit realm.

And before them appeared the last spirit they would meet on this journey.

Last expected words, words of any sort, but the spirit merely nodded with a small smile crinkling the edges of their eyes.

Then they moved their attention to their left and Last couldn’t help but follow it.

And suddenly it was the tapestry again.

But though it started with that familiar first mural, the only other to repeat was the fifth mural. The others had changed - no longer showing the start and grizzly end of a friend or saying farewells to the one whose ultimate fate was unknown. 

The other three murals changed to now show Last meeting Archways, just outside their home, of meeting Whiteburst under those broken bridges, of meeting the Flower in the pink desert. Every chance meeting they had so suddenly after centuries of stagnancy within their home, people they might never of meet at all if the events that led Archways to them had never occurred. 

And then a sixth mural was shown.

Of snow and wind whipping past them, forcing them to kneel. Two of the heads were down, of their two smaller companions, the Flower tucked under Whiteburst’s hood for protection.

Only Last had their head still up and facing forwards.

Yet.. for all the fear that Last should be feeling in this moment, of this vision, one last look towards the final spirit caused that fear to pause.

There was a strained look, one that creased with heartache, however it was not marred by hopelessness - it was a look that said to beware the dangers ahead and yet knew that, in the end, they would make it despite those dangers. 

Everything would be alright. Despite it all, it would be.

For they were not alone.

With one last long lingering look, the vision faded and the spirit was gone from their sight. 

And now the path forward opened with the sound of old gates clanking away to reveal the snowy lands ahead - of the final stretch of the pilgrimage’s way.

Last stood still for a moment as cold wind blew past them. They knew not what to think or just what beyond this temple they would face, just that faith had been placed onto them from strangers abound, them with their fragile mind and body, with no words spoken yet intent clearly perceived.

With a shuddering breath, they took their first step into the freezing cold of which they had never experienced and repeated the unspoken words passed onto them.

Everything would be alright. Despite it all, it would be.

.

.

.

Bob waited in silence. They did not acknowledge the others as they faded in one by one. All of them were waiting, waiting for that mystery person to call out. 

Bob had not been idle with their thoughts for all this time.

They had not said anything in the beginning, for they had only a feeling, that feeling when you recognized a seemingly unfamiliar face. So they waited and watched and racked their mind searching through dusty old memories. 

Eventually, they did remember.

They remembered Last.

They remembered Last when they were still young with rounded cheeks and their Mentor whose face already had that curve of white yet not the scar that ran jagged from crown to jaw.

They remembered warily approaching them, at the end of their era, praying they would heed their message and asked them if they could spread it as far as they could. There were no more resources, no more hope for them, all that was left was the final pilgrimage and putting one final effort in to ensure the future would have a chance.

And that was it, a singular fleeting encounter, a moment they had repeated time and time again with anyone who would care to listen before they no longer could.

But that was in a distant past.

Their message now might ring false. For Last to survive for so long, there must be some resources still, fleeting hope hidden amongst the sands that may spring the future much closer to the present than previously believed.

But that was something for tomorrow.

Right here, right now, there was someone to wait for…

“ Hello !”

A desperate greeting echoed across the monotone landscape. Emotion cracked it, disbelief and hope and joy and profound sadness twisting around such a simple word.   

And when Bob looked to the source, towards the mountain’s base, a silhouette of a person could be seen running towards them, but they were trapped in place - Infinitely running and running but never getting anywhere.

“ Last! ” The voice cried. 

Bob’s light softened - saddened at someone so desperate to reunite yet also heartened knowing that someone cared so greatly for Last that they would leave the blissful afterlife just to see their friend again.

“We hear you.” Bob called, voice clear and strong. They strode towards the figure, with purpose and cheer, until they stopped just in front of the person who had everyone so perplexed.

“Come, let us go meet Last. I’m sure it’s been a long time waiting.”

Chapter Text

The hallway echoed with footsteps, the only noise to be heard, the only thing that Last could stay grounded to. The mixture of emotions, conflicting and contradicting, left them muddled and numb. 

For now their eyes stared blankly ahead, not processing much of anything.

Just the echoes of footsteps and lingering flashes of moments that happened just prior to now - the good and the bad.

It was only when they numbly stepped into the snow - something that should’ve immediately fascinated them with awe for witnessing something from bygone stories - that the haze over their mind lifted. 

For the snow and its bite startled them back into reality. 

They shuffled backwards to the relatively snow free hall to stare at all the white without it nipping their heels.

The old birch had told tales of snow. Told of winter and the cold that was similar yet unlike the desert at night. How it fell through the air like the scarce rain yet piled up instead of pooling. The old birch was unfathomably old, remembering such a thing, and remembering how the winters got less and less snow until there was none, until it became too hot for snow.

Yet even though no snow had fallen in centuries…

The old birch still felt the need to warn them. 

Respect the snow.

Do not believe yourself better than it.

For it was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

And they had taught Last and their Mentor all they could about snow.

How powdered snow was not as ruthless as wet snow. Wet snow clung and sunk its teeth in and sapped all the warmth from you. And if you became too cold then you would never be able to move without help. 

And to never EVER venture into the snow alone because of that.

Paired with the image of that tapestry, of the wind and cold bringing them down to their knees… Even if everything would, in the end, be alright - that the spirits didn’t doubt they would make it…

Last shuffled a little more backwards away from it.

Perhaps they should just.. take the long way back. Retrace their steps. Even if it meant.. if it meant going back through that underground place. 

Last sighed long and slow as they shook their head. What good was that when both forwards and backwards held the same stone-backed threats?

“Go? Or no go?” Whiteburst asked from just ahead, only having taken a few steps into the snow.

“Yes I’m.. I’m going.” They nodded hesitantly. “Just.. not used to snow. ”

“Snow is cold.” Archways nodded back in understanding. “But it does not last.”

Last nodded again as they crept back into the snow. They winced as the second they did the snow and its cold fangs immediately started to bite once more.

But the old birch had taught them as much as they could about snow.

So they tighten their cloak around themself, enough that they could wrap it twice around them. The inner fold held close to the body but not tight to make sure the cold didn’t cling and the outer fold looser, leaving a gap between the two folds, so that the body-heated air could move to retain as much of that heat as possible. And with a shiver, their threads fluffed up - giving them a fuzzier edge all over. They also slouched forwards, curling up as much as they could while still being able to walk so that there was less area for the cold to get its claws in them. And finally they walked on their tiptoes so there was less of that part of them allowing the snowy ground to leech off their warmth through their feet.

They looked a little silly, but it was better than freezing their cloak right off.

Archways and Whiteburst certainly stared at them with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.

They could also see gears turning in Archways head, before their scarf flicked about. Last now in turn stared at Archways in confusion and curiosity. The red cloak’s scarf flicked and twitched some more and Last could now see they were trying to get their scarf to wrap around them like how they had wrapped their cloak around themself twice.

Ah.. right. Their cloaks were much shorter both in length and width and so couldn’t wrap themselves up like they could.

But it did make Last curious about their own lengthy scarf.

They stared at it and tried to move it themself. Originally part of them or not, it was still attached to them. But as it were, they only managed a weak wiggle. 

Which was going to be rather bothersome since theirs dragged across the ground the whole length while the two smaller ones had theirs held more aloft and only the tail end dragged in the snow.

A stray gust of wind made them realize it would be probably all for naught anyway. That wind would rip their scarf free from their body in an instant.

Looking back at the others, it seemed they came to the same conclusion and had abandoned wrapping themselves up with their scarves.

Their warmth solution was to instead be glued shoulder to shoulder to share their warmth between them.

They… fidgeted at that. 

They still felt the phantom feelings of the tips of their cloaks grasping the edges of theirs and the light press both real and imagined. The little flecks of warmth in both body and mind that mingled at the connected points. It was very much unlike the fire that had tried to strip them bare and leave them for dead. 

Gentle, easy, grounding warmth.

It would be logical - to join them.

But the logical words of the old birch and that harrowing notion of willingly cuddling up on their own terms clashed. 

For now, they couldn’t quite muster up the courage to join them.

For now, they tailed behind the two as they led the way.

But that tailing was short lived as a roar came from above and red lights flashed through the mist. A school of unfortunate carpets came scrabbling out of the mist to get away from the stone beast and all watched helplessly as one of them was nabbed and torn to shreds - lifeless body left to plummet to the ground. Last could not move, could not think , frozen to the spot as they stared at where the Machine had vanished back into the mist.

It had been so quick and sudden that no particular memory came forth - Their mind blank of anything besides fear . 

They only moved when a single golden light zipped into their line of sight. 

“Deary..” Came the whispery pleading pluck of the Flower. 

It was enough to get Last to let out a shuddering gasp and move once more. A cautioned pace with cautioned eyes on the skies.

And then came another roar but it was one not made of metal.

Last shut their eyes as snow blasted into their face by a fierce wind that bellowed past them. It lasted just a few seconds. But just as Last had wiped the snow off their face another gust came barreling through. 

Once the wind died down again, they wiped away the snow quickly just in time to see the next gust of snow and wind starting to come through the narrow gully ahead. And as it drew nearer that roar started to grow louder and louder. 

But the roar did not come from the wind itself.

Strange stone structures depicting a serpentine creature with a hole at the top was to blame. Last had heard about these but had never seen any intact ones before. 

From what they had been told, they were used as a deterrent to a species that once preyed upon beings of cloth, the noise replicating the leviathans’ rumbling warning roar, leviathans that would eventually inspire the creation of the War Machines.

Last had never seen the species themself, the species having gone extinct from what records both spoken and written told, along with so many other things.

In their musings, they forgot that there were other people around.

“Last?” Their name came towards them on another burst of wind. Finally, they tilted their gaze down a little to see their companions using the statues as a protection from the wind, allowing a way forwards to get through the gully.

A smart new use for the otherwise defunct statues.

“Coming!” Last shouted once the latest rush of wind had died down enough to not steal their voice.

Archways and Whiteburst gave synced nods as they pressed forwards towards the next closest statue, leaving Last to take shelter behind the one they were just at.

Only once did Last get caught in the winds as they pressed forwards, shoving them helplessly back to the start, with the rest of the group staying huddled near the end as they waited for Last to get back to where they were, all the while sending chirps, plucks, and chimes of encouragement.

By the time they all made it out to the other side, Last felt frozen to the core and struggled to stop shivering.

And they weren’t the only one as the group passed a carpet huddling within the broken shell of a machine, hardly able to move. It gave a happy call nonetheless but refused to leave their lackluster shelter.

Hopefully its flock would find them soon.

Yet that hope looked slim as soon Last’s attention turned towards the graves that littered this path.

It was tempting, to search for that one glyph, their mentor’s, amongst them despite knowing they had not come this way - simply a lingering force of habit that urged them to. They could not linger, another shiver wracked them, causing their previous settled middle to begin to ache once more.

They took a few steps forward…

…Then the cold wasn’t the only thing to cause them to freeze as a rumble sounded from above.

The machine did not pause though, sailing away without its searchlights on, and was soon gone from sight. But the direction it had gone in..

Last knew that they would run into it soon again.

They made a choked noise as they shivered in place, the idea of having to encounter the machine in the very near future keeping them from moving forward.

“Warm spot up ahead.” They heard Archways right next to them. They nodded absentmindedly and shuddered as they began taking steps again.

Warmth sounded like a really nice thing right now. The old birch couldn’t prepare them for just how bad the cold could be despite how much they had drilled in the dangers of it.

Wind billowed past them, breaching straight through their cloak and slowing down the group who had to stop in place to let it pass until they could move again.

Once up a set of stairs, it was easy to spot the room built into the rock face to the left before a ruined bridge. And within was a blessed working lamp that once turned on melted all the frost off of them in an instant.

And skies above did in feel nice not to shiver for a moment.

But it also put an even greater sense of dread within Last.

The group had not been in the cold for very long before getting to this resting spot and everyone had already been completely engulfed in frost. It was only the knowledge that Archways and Whiteburst had gone through this many times before that assured Last that it must be completely reasonable to get to the Mountain without freezing completely over and dying.

But the gravestones gave them doubts.

But the two were still living to this day.

Last had to trust them.

They could not stay in here forever and soon it was time to move on. However, it was not before Archways had to inform them of what waited for them on the other side of the bridge.

Last cloak tightened and their breathing quickened.

Just trust them, they repeated to themself as they all stepped out into the cold again.

Just trust them as Whiteburst gave a call that lowered the frozen cloth bridge.

Just trust-

Their light banged in their chest as the wide open fields greeted them and the group led them over to the left to hug the stone face cliff. Apparently, the lights would not pass over to the left, it would be close, but it would not pass.

Just- just…

Last choked back a sob as the machine drew close while their companions constantly assured them over and over that the light would not pass over here. They dutifully kept their eyes on the rocky face as Archways led the way and Whiteburst kept them moving from behind. The Flower could not do much but pluck and sing encouragement from where she shivered under Whiteburst’s hood.

Not soon enough, the war machine moved on, moved on with their rumbles and clacking of moving gears and mechanisms fading into the distance, yet the sound was not completely gone. 

“Up this way.” Archways called over the wind. “I want to know if safer path possible or not.”

Right, Last thought distantly, that place that Archways had talked about. The spot that once was easy to get to but now wasn’t.

Repressing shivers and gasps ladened with fear, Last followed Archways off the expected path. 

Tucked away was a ruin that provided some small relief from the nipping cold with its tunnel of rocky walls. It was here that supposedly held an alternative path but all Last could see was the exit that led back out to the snow field where they had come from.

“Here.” Archways said as they shook off the snow. Last did not like how frosted their cloak had already become again.  

They watched silently as Archways ignored the mural and instead walked towards the corner to its right. There they shoved with their shoulder and pushed with all their might. Yet nothing happened. They beckoned Whiteburst over only to achieve the same result but Last could now hear the groan of stone that emitted from it.

After all their shoving, the two began taking turns flying up the ceiling to scrape and kick at it repeatedly.

All for groans of stone and dust.

“Last here, help?” Whiteburst said as they beckoned them over.

Last obliged silently and approached the wall. The two small cloaks moved away to allow them room.

“Wall used to be loose.” Archways started to explain. “Used to be able to slip pass it to safer path behind.”

Last hesitated, but nodded, before they started to shove at the wall themself. And they could feel it, how the wall was ever so slightly loose. With each shove it moved somewhat but it would only go so far. When they stopped the wall would fall back into its original position. 

“All us, move?” Whiteburst suggested. Archways and Last nodded and, with a little fumbling to accommodate everyone into the corner, they all got ready to shove all at once.

“On three.” Last said, tense with how close they all were. “One.. two.. Three!”

In unison, the group shoved and kicked with all their might. They were moving it further back than before, Last could even see a sizable gap begin to form, about half the width of their head. 

However…

The view that greeted them within that gap was not open air but to a thick pile of rubble. Stones both small and large were blocking the way.

With defeat dense in the air, the trio one by one slumped away from the wall. The uncaring wall once more thudding back into its original position.

The safer way was totally and utterly blocked, leaving the original way the only option.

Archways could clearly see how Last’s breath hitched, how every fiber of their body tensed, how their eyes flitted about in a struggle to focus on the now. They peered out the exit and tried to devise a plan. They couldn’t see far ahead due to the whiteout, but they could replay perfectly the placement of the structures ahead, the hiding spots meant for someone their size.

But what they couldn’t replay perfectly was how the machine moved. They knew that they could hug the wall on the left like the first section but the timing had to be perfect . 

However, what they struggled to remember was when it would be safe to do so. The machine’s light did pass over a spot on the wall, yet then they would change up their pathing after 3 or 4 loops. 

They remembered so because it had caught them off guard once while helping out a particularly frightened companion who needed extra time and encouragement to make it across this dangerous field.

It was when that pathing changed that the light would then not pass over that spot.

But was it 3 or 4 loops before the pathing changed?

It was a coin toss.

Archways would have to keep a keen eye out for the shift instead and hopefully catch it just right. But for now they needed a prediction to try and settle Last’s fried nerves.

“Next part tricky.” They said loudly, mind coming to a choice. “We wait for machine to circle 3 times. Then move along wall.”

They waited until Last nodded, making sure they had listened.

“Whiteburst, you move, make machine start moving.” They explained simply, quickly drawing the plan in the snow for extra clarity. They nodded after a moment and puffed up with determination.

“Last.” Archways called attention to them again. “You cannot slow, we must move quick and with no stopping.”

Last stared, uncertain, and Archways’ glyph thundered  in their chest. They needed to nod, to do so with utmost surety, anything less would spell being caught in red lights.

Last gave a small hesitant nod.

It was not good enough.

“You need to not stop.” Archways pressed. “You cannot stop.”

Last fidgeted under their intense stare. Their lack of response made that stare intensify tenfold and Last could not stop their mind from remarking about how similar it was to when their Mentor had given such instructions in the distant past.

“ Don’t be a fool.” The words rang out. “ You must follow my every move until we get to safety. You cannot freeze up or the worst will come to pass.”

Their mind focused.

Then they gave a far more assured nod than what they truly felt.

And that was enough.

Without a word, Archways lead the group back out into the cold. What little warmth they had all gained was ripped away as the wind resumed blasting cold snow and air at them with an uncaring force. Last shivered violently as a burst of wind grew so fierce that no one in the group could move forwards. Once it passed they blindingly trudged forward while clearing their face of snow.

They almost didn’t see Archways thrust out one side of their cloak to signal everyone to stop. Still, they would notice and halted in their tracks once they did, watching as Whiteburst nodded and moved forward on their own.

Last’s glyph thundered in their chest - drowning out even the sound of the machine approaching, an eerie moment as at first only its search light could be seen in the fog, slowly creeping forward. Then the Eye -

A gentle touch to their side had them flinch.

It was only Archways.

Archways who had noticed Last’s mind slipping away - slipping into another terrible memory.

Cornered.

Trapped.

The eye turned and shifted away from the spot the two stood - a spot that Archways knew with certainty that the machine would not pass over.

Last let out a shuddering breath as the machine started to take its first loop around the area with Whiteburst backtracking towards them after the lights had moved on, giving them an opening to return.

Another violent shiver wracked their body as the group stiffly stood patiently as the machine completed the first, then the second, loop. 

At the start of the third, Archways wordlessly began to move, eyes on Last to make sure they followed. The thundering of their glyph returned tenfold, the world around them growing hazy. Only the smear of red in front of them kept them focused enough not to be whisked away entirely.

That red smear abruptly stopped and they almost crashed into it despite the achingly slow pace.

A little round face turned to face them amongst that red smear of color.

Breath…

Breath.

Last gave a nod to Archways - waiting for the next signal.

It wasn’t long until the war machine finished its third loop around and Archways marched forwards.

Breath.

Just follow their lead, follow the misplaced red amongst the blinding white, follow it out of here.

But they hardly made it halfway across when the red suddenly stopped, a stuttering halt, with face turned towards the patrolling stone beast, before urging the group backwards.

Though Last wouldn’t know, wouldn’t have understood that despite the machine changing its course as correctly predicted…

There was a twitch. A particular kind of twitch that seemed innocent enough but was a herald to so much worse. A sudden slight snap of the head jerking for a split second. A very slight movement that was all too easy to miss.

An unpredictably that had Archways’ own glyph thundering.

That innocent looking twitch…

The War Machine’s pathing had resetted.

And the group was in the absolute worst spot possible .

They spun around, no time to gawk or worry, trying their utter best to usher the group backwards before the light shone over where they were standing right now.

But luck was not on their side as a gust of wind pushed them forwards - trapping them in place.

And the light…

There was no time .

And Whiteburst knew it too.

With their eyes hardening - blazing and bright- they gave a quick flick to send the Flower over to Archways, and then turned on their heel towards the approaching nightmare.

“What ar- Whiteburst?” They heard Last click. No time - they had to get them out of here. They moved between Last and Whiteburst and shoved the living ancestor forward.

“W-Whiteburst? Whiteburst!” Last’s clicking became panicked and Archways could feel the way their light twisted and overtook their mind. “No! NO! NO NO NO!!!”

Last lunged backwards, towards Whiteburst, as the light crept closer and closer, the building sense of horror slowing down the world around them, urging them to act fast and to act now - but was tripped up by the small little body standing between them - falling down to one knee with a harsh thump. They tried to stand, but fumbled and fell in the snow, the cold digging deep as they scrambled to get up , get up and - and - and

Past and present warped and twisted around each other as red filled their vision and an all too familiar ominous growl of stone locking onto cloth was all they could hear. 

“Run Last! Keep running and DON’T-!”

A shriek tore out of them as loud as the roar of the nightmare as it slammed into the person before them - an explosion of golden light as the white cloak was helplessly snatched off their feet and hurled into the uncaring skies - dragged away until a thunderous snap sent them limply sailing through the air only to crash down to the earth where the snow hardly dampened the impact.

They were still shrieking when a body pushed into them and they reflexively kicked out to get it away from them! Get away! Don’t-!”

They heard something like an ‘ oof!’ and once more they lunged in the snow trying to get to the body laying still in the.. in the .. sand. No.. no.. no it was- it wasn’t sand.

A violent shiver.

It was so, so cold . Too cold.

“Last!” Someone cried as the still body came back to life. Their vision swam as they struggled to close the gap between them and the white cloak before them who switched between being tall like them and much too short. 

But that person started to run away from them - fleeing towards a stone archway - archway… Archways!

Their mind snapped to the present. 

Disoriented, they spun around, trying to catch that smear of red in the snow. It was more difficult than it should have been - the smaller cloak having to shake off the snow on them before Last could make them out.

“Go! Follow Whiteburst!” They heard them cry as loudly as they could and Last spun around once more searching for the exit they saw the white cloak escape to.

“ Last!” They heard the shout and locked in on Whiteburst waving their cloak around to catch their attention - feeling more than consciously commanding their legs to book it as fast as the cold crunch of them would allow. They spared a glance behind to see Archways giving good pace but ultimately slower than them due to having a shorter stride.

Last had just made it past the stone archway, the blessed exit from this nightmare, when the groaning and rumbling of machinery returned.

Eyes snapped back out into the nightmare, eyes glued to the red cloak who hadn’t made it pass just yet, and couldn’t breath as Archways barely made it to one of the broken pieces to hide before lights slid over them.

They were frozen to the spot, unable to look away, as the lights lingered for too long before it finally left the hiding spot - the little red cloak darted out the microsecond that it did.

Without further incident, Archways rejoined the group at the exit and Last let loose the breath that they had been holding the entire time.

Archways merely flicked their head further into the exit, further away from the nightmare, and none of them had to be told twice.

“ Little one…” came a too quiet pluck that only Archways could hear. They knew not the words.. but they knew the tone. 

Worry.

As the group entered the narrow passage that would lead to a courtyard, Archways lagged behind, wincing with every other step. 

“Will be fine.” They assured the Flower. And really, they should’ve known better than to intervene with touch when Last was amidst a strong awakened terror. But they hadn’t expected the swift kick that they got in the end. Perhaps if they were someone as tall as Last it would not have hurt so much - a kick to the thigh or hip - but as Archways was only half the size the kick had instead struck them square in the chest.

Taking a deep breath hurt so they stuck to sucking in short shallow breaths as they took careful steps after the other two.

Within the courtyard, everyone took a breather much to Archways’ relief. Last went to Whiteburst and fussed about them, searching frantically and thoroughly for every injury that the war machine had dealt as Archways sat upon one of the many broken chunks and subtly rubbed at the sore spot away from prying eyes.

Last was seemingly unaware of Archways’ own hurt.

But if Last knew…if they told them… Archways did not want them to break any further.

“Archways.” The Flower’s voice returned and for once they understood.

“Do not,” they whispered back. “Will be fine - Mountain will heal.”

They could feel the speck of judgment radiating from under their hood but the Flower held her voice back not for lack of want but knowing Archways could not yet understand. For now she silently disapproved - for if this incident was not addressed, Last may do it again in a far less convenient time and place. And wouldn’t that just completely eat them alive? No, it was better to tell Last now, to tear off the bandaid quickly, before this thing festered out of control.

“ Laaast.” Came a whine from Whiteburst. “I am Okay.”

They watched the living ancestor continue their look of bewilderment and Whiteburst just wanted to groan. Sure, being slammed into like that and having a chunk of scarf torn off was no pleasant feeling, but they certainly weren’t about to die.  

Yet they held off the brunt of that frustration since Whiteburst had their own scare with them and that thing called ‘sleep’ so they knew the feeling, but they also wanted to get a move on before their butt froze off.

They watched as Last continued to search with their eyes from top to bottom then back up and then back down over and over - Cloak hovering closely but never bridging the gap.

“Stop.”

“Are you sure ? I have seen others get hit and the wounds are usually quite grievous and there might be hidden tears or pulls under the surface that we’re not seeing and and and-“

Whiteburst’s head throbbed trying to keep up with the too-fast string of unfamiliar words. 

“ Stop.” Whiteburst repeated with greater emphasis. They added to that with even more emphasis by slapping their middle repeatedly, showing that they could do so with little issue. 

“…” Last squinted at them, forehead still creased with intense worry, before they muttered in that still bewildered way. “… you are weirdly squishier ..”

Whiteburst heard them mumble-muse something else that sounded like ‘ padded..? Maybe a knit not a weave ?’ 

Little questions they could not understand nor answer to lessen their worry.

At this thought they shifted their focus to Archways and the Flower who were sitting just a little ways away in what seemed to be their own little conversation.

They gave a subtle head tilt at Archways, who was slightly hunched and color more dull than it should be. However… that might just be because they didn’t get enough sleep… they still didn’t know the ins and outs of it so it was plausible - Last certainly was a duller shade of white before even getting to these frosty lands.

“We go now.” They said as a command and not as a question. If the two were very tired, it was best to move on now before the cold got to them before the storm even touched them.

Eyeing the way though… Everybody was too frozen to use anything but the plant-like cloth that littered the area in rigid patches.

Archways nodded and hopped off the broken piece of machinery - the Flower zipping out of their hood to Whiteburst’s before Archways could squawk.

Whiteburst immediately became perplexed by the dense pinprick of sourness they felt. They gave a questioning hum but the only thing they got back was an exasperated huff.

They flicked their gaze up towards Archways with that same questioning tone but just got a tired slump and sigh from them.

Hmmm…

This group was a mess .

But at least the worst of the stress would be over soon.

And by the Mountain were they going to force everyone to rest, sleep even if needed, and just chill . No matter how bored it may leave them!

With a dismissive roll of their eyes, it was now time to climb upwards. As expected, Last expressed deep discomfort, the little brushes and touches they consciously experienced so far not lessening the displeasure by much, but they screwed their eyes shut and did it for they must .

And looking down the short passageway that led to the balcony, Whiteburst let out a sigh of relief knowing the end was approaching fast and the storm was just around the corner.

The crackling of frozen cloth was as uncomfortable as always, and Whiteburst looked back with a crunch in their neck to see how Last was holding up with the cold. The storm would not be a pleasant time for the living one, both physically and mentally, but they hoped Last had enough trust in everyone to brave it to the end.

A gust of freezing air stopped everyone in their tracks and it was only now that Whiteburst could feel how frail the Flower had become as the first attempt at tucking their chin down resulted in a squeak from her.

“Wait in no snow.” Whiteburst relayed to Last, physically showing the ancestor where to stand to avoid the waning and waxing bursts of violent wind.

Whiteburst led, showing the way, with Last and Archways hunkering down between bursts in the spots just behind them. Soon, they would get to the troublesome stairs where your timing had to be perfect . Whiteburst made it up with no problem thankfully and soon marched forwards to the next spot to grant space for the other two.

The first couple of tries, the wind stubbornly sent Last sliding back down the slippery stairs, but the third proved successful as they used their wider cloak to cling to the walls to finally reach cover.

Now it was Archways’ turn.

The first attempt failed but sometimes that happened to even the best of travellers.

The second also failed which Whiteburst thought to be odd for one they knew to be so experienced.

Then the third attempt failed.

Then they knew something was wrong.

Before Archways even attempted a fourth, Whiteburst came as quickly backwards as they could, ignoring the worried chitter of Last.

The wind picked up again just as they got to the stairs and they had to angle themself in such a way as to not get blown all the way back to the start. Archways had thankfully scooted out of the way so that they didn’t crash into them.

Now…

Why couldn’t Archways get up the stairs?

There didn’t seem to be any outward sign that would tell them why besides maybe that dullness of color. Could it be the tiredness? But Last was tired too like Archways and they had gotten up just fine - making due with their inexperience. Yet they could not deny that Archways’ eyes shone far dimmer than Last’s - far dimmer than they ever saw in anyone anywhere barring within the storm ahead.

Something was wrong and they didn’t know what.

It was not until they wrapped their cloak around their slim shoulders to help support them up those dumb stairs that the reason became all consuming.

Whiteburst could not help but flinch back as the intertwined light zapped them with Archways’ hidden pain. Worse because it was unexpected. 

When had Archways gotten hurt?

Whiteburst asked with worried eyes, searching for the answer in Archways’. The red cloak hesitated, a burden clear in their eyes with a cast down gaze, worry drawing lines across their face. All for a just sigh to escape.

“Hurt? Where?” Whiteburst softly, but firmly demanded.

Archways hesitated again but nonetheless pointed to the center of their chest. Pushing the cloak out of the way revealed red darkened to an ugly brown - an injury like they had been struck particularly hard by a war machine in an unusually concentrated way yet Whiteburst knew that to be untrue.

Upon closer inspection, the injury looked to be shaped like a foot -

“What’s going o-”

The group turned to look at Last, whose question abruptly cut off as soon as their eyes landed upon the injury, and whose eyes grew wide in shock.

Archways let loose an exhausted sigh, not bothering to cover the spot with their cloak, only steeling themself for these next moments and all that they would bring. At first, Last said nothing, frozen to the spot on the stairs where they gripped the metal to stop the wind from whisking them away, the only movement being their eyes as they flitted about searching for answers.

Then, horror filled them as the pieces were put together.

Silence hung heavy in the air.

“Do not-“

“I - Archways-!”

“ Do not pity me.” Archways clanked the words fiercely. “You were not on the now - on bad time. I should have been thinking better. I will be okay, okay?”

“Archways, I - you should be unconscious at best !” A fury erupted out of Last, shame and guilt becoming an ugly beast, a fury with no direction. That kick, a kick practiced 10,000 times over and over, a kick that was meant to break legs - to cripple a foe to escape, a kick so mastered and strong as to snap through a thousand threads…

…A kick that should never be directed at the chest unless one had no choice.

It was a miracle Archways was alive, let alone still standing.

A thousand thoughts blitzed through their head, a roaring clamor of twisted things so loud they could not think, louder than the wind still billowing past them.

Fool.

Idiot.

“-A Liability.”

Their knees felt weak as old hissed words drowned out the world around them.

“They are young and scared!”

“And you are a fool . Our survival-”

“It is you who is the fool! A dolt who doesn’t understand a thing!”

They could not hide away from the ferocious argument that had ensued. Nor deny the cause. 

Yet still their mentor had defended them despite that. Their mentor who took the blame because they had been the one to teach Last what should’ve been just a self-defense technique. Self defense that had backfired.

“ Last.”  

The words were bold and blunt and when their eyes no longer showed them the past, what they saw was the blazing eyes of Archways, staring directly into their own with a fierceness that shone brighter than Whiteburst’s ever had.

“I do not blame you. You had hard life. This is true. This I know from traveling with you. And I will continue to travel with you. Because I know it was hard life that caused you to kick me and that if you never had tough life you would never ever choose to hurt me.”

Archways’ eyes dimmed with a shuddering breath. 

But they had to continue, just for a little bit.

“I am happy to have met you.”

Last couldn’t speak, only a choked noise escaped, strangled and strained.

Happy? Happy?!

After all they caused? After they could’ve killed them?! Even with how broken they were that they had severely injured them without pausing to think?! They were a burden, not worthy of such swift forgiveness, not worthy to even be in their presence.

Archways didn’t deserve them.

Last certainly didn’t deserve any of them.

“Last. You are my friend.”

Something broke.

They weren’t sure what.

But something broke.

They gripped the metal bars tighter and tucked their head down, shame boiling them alive.

They did not have long to wallow in the chokehold of emotions that left them hollow when a feather light touch brushed against them.

Prying open their misty eyes, eyes with tears that threatened to spill over yet again, they glanced down to see the blurred image of Archways pressing oh so gently into their frost covered cloak.

Naïve.

Reckless.

Unwise.

Archways should not be trying to give them this near-phantom touch, not after what they just did, a thing that they only half-remembered doing in a hazy vague sense. No, they should scorn them, reject them, be utterly disgusted with them and never want to do anything with them ever again. That was the sensible thing to do.

But Archways instead slowly deepened the touch, pausing every moment or so as they gauged the tallest’s reaction, and brought up the right side of their cloak up to wrap around their back.

Wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrongwrongwrongwrong Wrong.

“If hurts in you so much, to let this be as I mean it -as comfort- then at least use it to help me up.”

The voice was soft and quiet, but the intertwined light meant it rang clearly in their head. They remained frozen to the spot, unsure how to proceed, emotions once more muddled to the point of numbness.

Then another body pressed into them from the other side.

Whiteburst who smiled up at them before gently nuzzling into their side with extreme care.

They didn’t… they di-did not deserve this.

“Last.” Came an amused plinking pluck. “Are you going to be a fool?”

“I..” They switched their speech to the language of plants. “What?”

“They love you silly! Despite whatever qualms that dusty mind of yours might say, you are their friend.”

“ But-!”

“No buts! You cannot deny their words! Nor can you deny how badly they want to help you.” The Flower cut them off swiftly with a harsh sound that startled Last. “Let them.”

Still they remain frozen, holding themself rigid in the gentle embrace they found themself in.

“Let me you you and you go.” Whiteburst huffed with a giggle mixed in. Last nodded, mind still not processing this whole thing, yet they still could not move - every thread in them pulled taut and locked in place.

Then… a humm.

An old song on the edge of hearing as one sought out comfort. Of too many tears in the eyes blinding them so they had to follow the thread with their hearing. Of waking from a night terror to hear someone tidying the books in the wee hours of the morning when the sun hadn’t yet woken.

But this melody, though familiar, spun and danced in an unfamiliar way.

Little words added, little words that breached into their mind.

“ I was born for this.” It whispered in a phantom voice so similar to their Mentor’s though they had never sung those words in life. “ Do not pity me. I was born for this.”

Their legs thawed from their spot of their own accord, wind howling past them as they carefully made their way up the slippery stairs, the bodies pressed into them sticking close so that they would not be blown away. 

The wind could do nothing to stop them.

Little by little, the group marched on, legs becoming numb in the blistering cold but with strength in them still.

Last could not hear the loud roaring wind, just the humm of a song in the air where it shouldn’t be. They could not feel their feet slowly crossing over a frozen cloth bridge, only the press of two shivering bodies that refused to leave them.

And then, it was all shattered by a crack of thunder that snapped in their faces.

Startled and shaken, the jolt jostled loose the light grips their companions had on them and the wind snatched them away. Whiteburst held strong, ducking their head down in the direction of the wind, but Archways lost their weakened footing and was helpless as the wind sent them tumbling to the ground and struggling to stop it from dragging them away.

Last tried to keep their eyes on them, to not lose them within the whiteout, when black spots filled their vision.

At first, they thought themself to be blacking out, the cold too much, but then they saw the origin and it still proved that the cold was close to its final toll.

Blackened cloth, frostbite taking hold and killing with no remorse, was scattered into the air until one could not make out the flakes of them from the flakes of snow.

From each of them, the cold tore at them like a phantom machine, yet harder to stop as everyone was unable to avoid it as it ate away at their scarfs little by little.

Last was helpless, barely able to watch on, the wind forcing them to focus on staying upright.

But then the wind shifted, the quiet between allowing a moment to breathe. 

And something within surged forth - something that had been trapped for far too long - something that had them momentarily forgetting centuries of fear. Of an old hummed song carried through halls and wind alike.

They did not want to lose anyone else.

Last lunged forward and held on tightly - great iced cloak wrapping around the struggling red cloak and hugging them close as the wind crashed into them once more and sent them sliding the other way. The snow blinded them, but as the wind shifted again they could just barely see Whiteburst within the veil and started to move towards them.

The gap was too large, the wind thrashing about too much, but as Last and Archways hunkered down and dug their legs into the snow, Whiteburst let the wind do the work and send them tumbling towards them. Last nearly fumbled but still caught the white cloak before they sailed right by them and pulled them in.

The wind would not and could not separate them, the group holding on too tight for it to pry them apart again, all it could do was strip them of their flight as together they marched on. 

Marched on until they passed into the center of the storm where the air was eerily still and calm.

Last could not express anything, the cold constricting their light to the point it felt like the beating warmth was encased in ice - they could not work it to make even a single sound. Just little pulses of light to let the world know they were still alive.

And other little pulses joined them, responding in time with theirs.

The cold had not gotten them, not yet, but Last had never once felt so exhausted in their life. Every step was a battle, wincing with every small movement as fiber became absolutely and totally inflexible.

Every step forward was paired with a worrying snappish crunch.

But they continued on, as far as they could, and Last wondered how these new people did this over and over again. To know that the cold would be so cruel and uncaring, to walk willingly into the storm, all for a Mountain that was quickly fading from view in the fog.

To bare all this agony hundreds of times over.

What made it worth it?

Was anything worth it?

And they felt rather than heard an answer, weak and struggling but still determined to be known.

“ I was born for this.”

And Last wanted to say how cruel, to be forced into this by the people of the past, but they were interrupted before they could truly feel those emotions.

“ Along this road no-one goes.”

Faint but bright and blazing all at once.

“ Along this road this Autumn’s eve.”

An image of cloaks intertwined, edges holding on lightly as a pair walked along a well trodden path deserted of others besides the two, passed onto them and something slotted into place.

“ I was born for this. ”

Last pressed forwards, cloak still wrapped tightly around their… companions… 

The word sounded too formal now. Not right.

“ Do not pity me. I was born for this. ”

And Archways felt the pieces start to come together as they sang that song in their light. A song that had been sung to them however long ago it had been when they first fell from the skies, sung to them in their darkest moment as they now sung it to Last.

No one else could hear it, not in this world of silence as snow fell gently down, looking as soft as the fluff of their bed but lacking the warmth. No, this was a song that had to be truly felt in order to be truly heard.

A stumble interrupted it, but no one fell. Last lifted everyone up and trudged determinedly forward, not pausing or hesitating at all in their search of the Mountain, in search of salvation.

Archways’ eyes grew heavy, yet they still did not fall, even as they dragged themself more than walked, legs too frozen to lift high enough, but they did not fall.

At this point they should have . 

They knew the spot, the spot that no one had ever gone a single step past no matter how hard they all tried, yet now they had surely passed it and they were still going.

Idly, as they stumbled and counted their steps, they realized that they just kept going. Five paces ago they should’ve fell. Five more and they knew for sure that they had made it further into the cold than anyone could ever dream .

But still the snow with its cold continued to drag them slower and slower as always. This did not change and could not be changed.

They felt their connection to the others weaken and weaken as they all were brought to a pitiful crawl. They long since lost their chirp and now could not even pulse those little lights, the only noise was their dragging steps and the crunch of frozen cloth.

Whiteburst was the first to fall, the Flower in their hood withered and unresponsive.

And then Archways, too, fell.

Distantly they could feel Last’s panic, but they too could not speak, or send even little pulses, and they too could not stop their knees from hitting the ground.

And as Archways began to lose consciousness, too cold to stay awake, Last defiantly struggled on. 

They drew the group closer together into the folds of their great cloak, wrapping them closer to their body for any scarce warmth, denying that there was none. They tried to drag them forwards still, to keep going, but they could not stand no matter how hard they fought with their fading strength. They could not even cry, the cold freezing the tears before they ever had a chance to form.

The air was still and ghostly silent as Last heaved another step forward with great effort. The crunch of their frozen form struggling to move echoed across the empty expanse, stubbornly trying to continue forwards even when they could not see where the Mountain was anymore nor know how close they were to it.

In the end, Last too, would fall. 

Yet as the light began to leave their eyes, they could feel that tune whistling in the air, so strangely real , of that new song that their companions had sung to them that was a twist on an older, familiar one of a different tone. 

Then as the world fell away into darkness, they wondered if this was the end.

Yet it would not last, would not be the end.

That whispery voice sung to them,

Do not pity me, I was born for this .

In a way that was familiar in more ways than one.

And as the others had known that Last had not, and would not have believed them had they told them, was that within the veil of cold and wind would emerge six figures. The ones who had guided them throughout the path, teaching them of the past with single call cries. 

For their final part, they would give them the strength to beat the storm.  

They would grant them that with which they could never obtain in their own life of strifes. Golden light descended upon them, wrapping around them like a blanket that felt like home, whispering comfort and praises as warmth began to bloom within them - chasing away the cold with ease.

The gentle power - they could feel it race down every thread- of that golden light, stronger than anything they had ever known as it sprouted a scarf longer than a single glyph alone could ever hope to achieve.

And when they stood they saw the six-

…Seven?

They faded into the snow and they could not know if it was a trick of the eyes and mind, the two things least trustworthy of themself, before the overwhelming surge of golden light enveloped them and guided their gaze to the skies above.

They could feel it.

They could sense it as clear as a cloudless day.

A call.

They did not know from who or what.

But there was a call that cried out for anyone, anyone at all, in the great empty expanse of the world. 

And the great expanse of their cloak, now golden and bright, only needed one beat of wind to send them piercing into the heavens. The call.. The Call. It filled their mind and their light and they had to find it. 

They could not see it, so they followed the thread with their hearing, felt the call beat louder and louder. It was frantic and desperate and erratic in their light, a need so potent that all else was consumed by it, all for this thing that tugged so hard yet could not be seen - they had to find it, it sung to them so.

Then the storm reared its ugly head, gnashing its icy fangs, and roared back into life - trying to drown out that song that tried to guide them.

The wind and snow howled as they punctured through their chilling hold, unstopped by the storm’s unmatched strength, and it raged and raged and raged , spitting lightning to block the way. 

And Last did flinch, memories swirling as violently as the storm around them, and their initial speed nearly completely shattered as a machine roared in from out of nowhere, another foe the storm threw at them to deny them their escape. Their eyes tracked the machine’s path, cloak faltering in their flight, mind beginning to drift away.

A single golden petal rocketed past them, gleaming that same golden light, providing focus. 

And she was not alone.

By their sides came two equally brilliantly bright figures, who each grabbed and held the edges of their own cloak with gentle yet determined guidance.

Last was not alone.

Together they flew into the blinding white light.