Mythos: Last Stand

  Chapter 31 — A Relaxing Boat Ride Where Nothing Goes Wrong

  by Caide Fullerton

  If Strade had to choose one word to describe the ocean, it would be 'loud’. The sound had been muted in Avek Tirion’s bay, where only gentle waves reached. Out here, he could hardly hear himself think. That was almost a comfort; he’d much prefer if he really couldn’t hear any of what he was thinking right now.

  He sat on the edge of a ship’s top deck, behind the railing with his legs hanging over the edge of the vessel. The ship was a huge, wooden thing that somehow floated atop the water despite its incredible size and weight; every aspect of it was so foreign to him, he didn’t bother trying to understand any of it. Sils had called this thing, with its huge sails and wooden decks, a galleon; he didn’t much care what it was called.

  In his hands was yet another thing that was foreign to him—a fishing rod. The concept itself of fishing was something he was at least vaguely familiar with—there’d been plenty of rivers and a handful of lakes throughout the Heap—but fishing there had been conducted primarily by just stabbing the fish. The fishing line and hook and lure and bait and the reeling wheel of this rod were all new to him, and it’d taken him several embarrassing attempts to put them all together correctly and cast the line.

  Even with the line cast properly, it was slow going. Everyone from outside the Heap had assured him that this was normal, to be expected—that fishing always required a lot of patience, and that being on a moving ship would only make it all the harder. That didn’t make it any less frustrating that he hadn’t caught anything.

  All the time he’d spent watching his line’s bobber glide across the water’s surface had given him plenty of time to think—far too much, which only served to fuel his frustration more; this activity was utterly failing at being a distraction. He had, for example, had time to reevaluate his original assumption that the ocean was loud. He’d realized it was noticeably quieter on this side of the ship than the other, and it’d been far louder still when they were closer to the shore. It was not the ocean itself that was loud, then, but the waves crashing against the beach; what an utterly pointless observation. He felt like he was becoming Jackie.

  Speaking of Jackie, he could faintly pick their voice out from the sounds of the ocean, coming from the opposite end of the deck. They’d spent nearly the entire trip so far chatting away with Raffica, Sils, or the ship’s crew. How they could be so casual throughout what was quite obviously developing into a suicide mission, he couldn’t fathom. Perhaps their cheerful curiosity was their own way of distracting themself?

  The events that played out in Avek Tirion had been a wake-up call for Strade, in multiple ways. First, it had truly alerted him to how dangerous this mission was. They’d been assaulted by enemies he couldn’t possibly stand against—and those hulking titans of armor had numbered in the dozens. Second, it had shown him the reality of what ‘war’ was. He had heard that Jackie and Sam fought against a couple soldiers from Evendel, but he hadn’t truly understood the gravity of fighting against other, real people until he was involved in it himself.

  ‘Involved’ wasn’t the right word. He hadn’t done a damn thing.

  Third, and perhaps most importantly, that battle had revealed to him just how weak he was. He couldn’t hold a candle to those Volundr mechs, or to Admiral Kyte, or even to the more normal-seeming members of his team like Jahd and Raffica. He was just Human, born without any racial magic he could utilize in battle; he would always be at a disadvantage.

  Those revelations had coalesced into one truth—that this was a suicide mission. He and the others were helpless grunts fighting on the losing side of a war, surrounded by titans whose might eclipsed the sky. What was a worm to do, even if it thrashed as hard as it could?

  Eugh. Now he was being poetic. The idea disgusted him so much he reeled.

  ???: “Not feelin’ seasick, are ye?”

  Strade withheld a groan. He didn’t bother to look back at the voice—at Jahd. “No. Why do you people risk traveling by sea if it can get you sick?”

  Jahd: “Seasickness ain’t a disease like that. Though, I suppose there are other diseases that spread while at sea.”

  Strade: “So sailing is still dumb.”

  Jahd: “Up to debate. Any luck?” He moved to lean against the railing beside Strade.

  He grumbled. “No. You’d think there’d be more fish in something so big.”

  Jahd: “There are a lot o’ fish. Most of ‘em are smart enough not ta hang out near the surface—or so close ta the Heap, fer that matter.”

  Strade glanced behind him, towards where Jackie sat. They were keeping watch of the shore a ways to the left of the ship—jagged, rocky beaches pockmarked with thick neon grasses and heaps of trash that spilled out into the shallows, forming what were no doubt the most disgusting tide pools in the world.

  The ship sailed north alongside the coastline of Mirres Island, which meant following the perimeter of the Forgotten Heap. Strade had hoped he’d never have to see or even think about that place again; clearly, life had a twisted sense of humor. He did his best to avoid looking that way if at all possible; he’d noticed Sam and Helena doing the same. Jackie had been kind enough to volunteer to keep watch over that side themself.

  The chances of anything trying to attack them from the shore were incredibly low, but it wasn’t zero. Best to see any potential threats coming.

  People in the outside world seemed clueless about many things regarding the Heap—things Strade had always taken for granted. If there was one thing that was well-understood out here, it was the monsters that inhabited the place. Their reputation kept anyone but the most foolish or suicidal from attempting to explore it, and even seasoned soldiers avoided it at all costs.

  The latter was what Sils and the others were relying on. Evendelian forces wouldn’t concentrate near the Heap—the taboo didn’t seem to exist out here, but people had managed to put together the same core idea that gathering in large numbers would attract the Heap’s more unsavory denizens. It wouldn’t be unguarded, but there would likely only be one ship close enough to see the shore. If they could just slip past that single ship—or destroy it before it could signal any others—they’d successfully break through the blockade.

  Something tugged at his line.

  Strade began furiously wrenching at his fishing reel, locked in a desperate battle with his prey. His vigor elicited a light chuckle from his spectator.

  Jahd: “Why’re ye so desperate to catch somethin’, anyhoo?”

  Strade: “Because—I’ve got nothin’ else—to do..!”

  Jahd: “Sure ye do. All yer friends’re here. The Golems brought plenty o’ games. Jackie or Raffica could talk yer ear off fer hours.”

  Was he treating him like a child? Strade redoubled his efforts. “That all sounds—like a waste—of time..!”

  Jahd: “No, no, not at all. Entertainment’s important, and so’s socializin’. Gotta give yer mind a lil’ break.”

  Strade: “I don’t have—time for that..!” He growled.

  Jahd: “Don’tcha? It’ll take us a good day or two ta reach the mainland. That’s plenty o’ time to mix things up.”

  Strade: “I just said, I don’t—have—time!” He shouted and yanked back on his fishing pole, lifting up a moderately-sized fish for his efforts. It was almost laughable, how catching something so much smaller than him had required so much effort. “I ought to be doin’ something useful with my time! Least I can do is catch some food.”

  Jahd: “We’ve got a week’s worth of food, though. Extra rations, too. Ye think a few fish’ll make a real difference?”

  Yeah, that’s right. Nothing he did made a real contribution. He was useless compared to everyone else here—dead weight. “What do you want from me, then? Huh!? You just want me to sit around and look pretty!? I refuse to be useless!”

  Jahd raised an eyebrow. “Fer one, I’d like ye ta be honest like that with yer mentor here.”

  Strade: “Hah? I don’t remember havin’ any relationship like that with you.”

  Jahd: “That’d be because I never asked ye.” He closed one eye, “We’re stuck together, so I’m gonna do it even if you refuse.”

  Strade: “I don’t need shit from you.”

  Jahd: “Ye don’t? Well, that’s sure a shame.” He sighed and turned around, looking out at the ocean. “Guess I’ll give my life-changin’ advice and inspiration ta the sea, instead. Not that I could stop anyone else from overhearin’ it.”

  Strade scoffed, unhooking his catch and tossing it into a bucket. “And who’d even want your stinkin’ advice?”

  Jahd: “Hey, hey, that’s no way ta talk to yer elders. Old men like me’ve got plenty worth hearin’.”

  Strade: “Tch. You aren’t that much older than me, jackass.”

  Jahd: “Really? I didn’t know ye were in yer nineties. Humans must live pretty long, huh? Even elves start ta look middle-aged at your years.”

  Strade: “I’m not—” He blinked, realizing the implication. “You’re ninety? You look, like, thirty.”

  Jahd: “Ninety-four, ta be exact. Bein’ Fae will do that to ye.” He chuckled, retrieving a bottle of whiskey from the recesses of his jacket. He screwed off the cork, pocketed it, and took a swig. “We stop agin’ before long—our bodies, at least. You’ll rarely meet one who looks older than thirty.”

  Strade: “So, what? You just live forever?”

  Jahd: “Pretty much—unless somethin’ kills us.”

  Strade: “Well, that’s dumb.”

  Jahd: “Take it up with the Gods. Or the Leys, I suppose.”

  Strade: “Not that. It’s dumb that you’re here.”

  Jahd raised an eyebrow at that, taking another swig. “Care t’elaborate?”

  Strade: “You just said it yourself, you’ll live forever unless something kills you. Why’re you out here, fightin’ some war? Go find a rock to hide under and drink for a thousand years instead.”

  Jahd chuckled. “And how would I get a thousand years worth of refills while I’m livin’ under a rock?” He shook his head, “Yer right, we could just hide away an’ live forever, but that ain’t really livin’. I’ve got things I care about out here, so I choose ta put my life on the line.”

  Strade: “That’s still dumb. If you die, that’s, like… infinite years that you’re wasting.”

  Jahd: “Wastin’, eh?”

  Strade: “It’s a disservice. You’re lucky to have all that time, and you’re just gonna waste it?”

  Jahd took a moment to respond. “Ye’ve sure got strong opinions on the preservation of life fer such a reckless fool.”

  Strade: “Hah? You tryna say somethin’?”

  Jahd: “That I am. Ye think I should hide in a cave just ta preserve my life, but ye’ll throw yerself at my blades durin’ a mock duel? What makes yer life worth less than mine?”

  Strade ground his teeth, recalling the unpleasant memory of that duel. “I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  Jahd: “That was a lot more than not thinkin’ straight. An’ it doesn’t answer my question, either.”

  Strade let out a harsh breath. He did not want to talk philosophy with this dumbass swordsman. “You live longer. Forever. You have more to lose.”

  Jahd: “Heh.” Another swig. “Lemme tell ye, kid, immortality’s a big ol’ scam. How many of us ye think’ve been around since year zero?”

  Strade shrugged.

  Jahd: “None, far as I know. Maybe a couple that took yer advice, hid under rocks. Fact is, we Fae’re just as vulnerable ta murder, starvation, an’ a whole smatterin’ of other things as ye Mortals are. We can live forever, but in practice, our lifespan ain’t much longer than yours.”

  Strade hunched down. “Because you’re all stupid.”

  Jahd: “Because we’re all human, and livin’ means takin’ risks sometimes. I owe a lot ta th’Admiral, an’ I care about my comrades in Heapwatch. I intend on seein’ this through, even if I might die for it.”

  Strade sank lower. “It’s your fault, then.”

  Jahd: “Ho?”

  Feeling a surge of anger, Strade slammed a fist into the post beside him before he thought better. “Just leave me alone, damn it! People like you piss me off!”

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Jahd: “Like me, eh?” He sighed. “Fine, fine. We did get a bit off track, I suppose.”

  He took another swig and rose from the railing. He seemed to want to say one last thing, but he stopped, eyes narrowing at the horizon. Strade followed his gaze.

  Raffica: “Hey, there’s something approaching starboard!” Their lookout called out from above, clearly seeing the same thing as them. “It’s… an Evendelian ship!”

  ? ? ?

  Some time earlier…

  Helena’s hand slid up and down the length of her broadsword, separated from the steel edge only by a pale cloth. She polished her blade with slow, careful strokes, focusing as much as she could on the simple, repetitive action.

  She’d hoped the menial activity would distract her; it wasn’t even enough to stave off her headache.

  She’d started feeling queasy about an hour after boarding the ship, and that had then developed into a mild headache. The others had called it seasickness and assured her that it was normal, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. She was meant to be a warrior—no, she was a warrior, and a competent one at that to have escaped the Heap alive. How had the warrior that slew a Kuzumade been rendered ill just by standing on a boat? What would she do if the enemy attacked while she was like this?

  Worse, the sickness and accompanying self-loathing were probably the smallest of the thorns tearing their way through her mind at the moment. Having that final extra problem dumped on top of everything else felt like an insult more than anything else.

  A sound. Her train of thought came to an abrupt halt as she straightened her back and snapped to face the door. It creaked open with the groan of old wood and rusty hinges, and in walked one of the ship’s crew.

  The ship was manned primarily by a crew of individuals she’d not yet met, each belonging to the same peculiar race. Golems, they were called; Sils and Jahd had described them as artificial life. Their bodies were made of stone, sculpted into the shapes of people. The shapes were remarkably accurate for the most part, complete with faces and hair and clothes.

  Despite being made of stone, the magic that enchanted them allowed their bodies to move and stretch somewhat like flesh and hair and cloth, though much more limited than the real things. Movements aside, the flat grey color and perfectly smooth texture of their bodies made them stand out. Faint patterns and sigils shimmered across their bodies, usually invisible but briefly reappearing in waves of dim, multicolored glow.

  There were nine Golems assigned to crew this ship. Though they did all have unique appearances, each were also labeled with a letter painted on their forehead. This one was labeled ‘C’, and it was carved into the shape of a shortish girl with bowl cut hair and a sailor’s garb. She—it? Did Golems have genders?—stepped over to Helena, her stone feet clanking against the floorboards, and offered her a small plate, held out in both hands; a cup of steaming orange tea sat atop it.

  Helena glanced between the tea and the Golem’s gentle, smiling face a few times. Before she could reach a decision, a second figure stepped out from behind C’s frame—Lii.

  Lii: “I-it’s from Sam. He said it’ll make you feel better.”

  Helena nodded and sheathed her sword before taking the tea. “Thank you, C. Tell Sam, as well.”

  The Golem gave her a smile and a salute before marching out of the room. Helena cringed at herself; she’d asked C to relay a message knowing full well that the Golems couldn’t speak. Stupid. And inconsiderate—it was in their nature to help those around them, so poor C would dutifully try to deliver the message even without vocal chords.

  She sighed and raised the cup to her lips to sip the tea; it would solve her headache, at least. She nearly spat it out the moment it touched her tongue. It was damn hot, for one, and the taste was earthy with a hint of… spice? Drinks should not be spicy, of that she was sure. It’s medicine, she told herself. It’s supposed to taste bad.

  She got a few sips deeper before she realized Lii was still standing in place, staring awkwardly down at Helena with that blank, tired expression of hers.

  Helena: “Uh, do you need something?”

  The Mimic jolted. “Uh, n-no! Sorry, it’s… it’s nothing. Sorry, just… Uh, are you okay?” She scratched her cheek, adding a moment later, “B-besides your headache, I mean.”

  Helena groaned. “No.”

  Lii: “...Would you, uh, like to talk about it?”

  She glared at Lii, which got the girl to jump. Did she want to talk about it? No, absolutely not. Did she understand deep down that she probably should talk about it, anyways?

  Helena: “Fine. Yes. Let’s talk about it.”

  Lii’s lip curled. “Are you, uh, sure..?”

  By Eve, did she sound that unenthused? “Sit down before I change my mind.”

  The girl yelped and obeyed, sitting opposite Helena. They were in the cramped quarters afforded to her, Lii, and Raffica, little more than a pair of bunk beds and a drawer. Helena had been sitting on the edge of one of the cots; Lii sat herself on another.

  Lii: “S-so, um, what’s wrong..?”

  Where should she even start? “I wish I’d spoken more to Celeste.”

  She hadn’t known the Ghost very well; they’d only met a few days ago, after all. Sure, they fought together against the Shades and ate together at the Young Lotus Inn, but was that enough to make them friends? Perhaps life in the Heap had distorted her perception of relationships, but she felt friendship was something deeper than that. Even so, she had wanted to get to know her better; she couldn’t have known things would turn out the way they did.

  She hadn’t gone with the others to see Celeste after the battle. Why? Because she’d felt supremely useless.

  She’d understood that she couldn’t feasibly participate in the battle at Avek Tirion, but understanding why didn’t change the fact that she’d stood idly while other people were putting their lives on the line. It wasn’t as though she’d just cowered away—the Admiral had ordered her to stay out of harm’s way, after all—but she’d still felt that she should have done something. She had tried to do something, at the very end, but counting her brief participation felt like an insult to everyone who’d actually fought.

  She’d faced enemies far the Volundr’s superior in the Heap. Not only that, she was stronger now than ever before; she had a real weapon, and if needed she could work together with Lii like she had against the Kuzumade. If she’d truly wanted to, she could’ve fought, but she didn’t. She regretted her inaction—all the more when she’d realized how much Jackie had contributed to the battle.

  Thinking that she had to make up for her choice, that she had to do something, she’d jumped at the first chance she saw to be of use. With the battle over, Avek Tirion needed to repair and reconstruct, and for that they needed labor. Tall and muscular as she was, it was the perfect work for Helena; she threw herself at the task, blocking out everything else.

  She didn’t see the wounded Celeste until several hours later. She hadn’t realized how severely the girl had been wounded—that, or she’d willfully ignored it so she could focus on work, on being useful somehow. It was sobering, seeing her half-conscious in bed. Helena had tried to speak to her, but Celeste was quiet, morose; the only words she would speak were an apology for her failure.

  It felt wrong. Helena came away from the experience unsure of what exactly the issue was, just that it had all been wrong. She should have done things differently. She should’ve fought from the start, should’ve gone to see Celeste immediately.

  Lii: “...y-yeah, me too. She agreed to be my friend, but… I don’t think I really treated her like one.”

  Helena: “We didn’t know her condition was that bad.” Was she speaking to Lii, or to herself?

  Lii: “No, b-before that, even. After the Shades, she… she tried to cheer me up, but I was just rude to her. I felt, um, awkward, after that. Like she wouldn’t want to talk to me.”

  At least Helena wasn’t the only one butchering social interactions.

  No, it was more than that. All this stress wasn’t just because she’d spoiled her relationship with a girl she hardly knew, or because she’d chosen not to help in the fight against giant terrifying hunks of armor. It was because she couldn’t figure out who she was—who she wanted to be.

  Her argument with Jackie back in the Heap and her declaration back in Heapwatch swam in her mind, the memories mixing into a cocktail of mild mental torment. She wasn’t in the Heap anymore. She wasn’t a survivor anymore. She was free, at least in a sense. She didn’t need to force herself anymore. She could be whoever she wanted, out here.

  Why, then, was it so hard to decide who that was?

  Was she the kind, outgoing Helena that would run to Celeste’s side to check on her? Was she the serious, dutiful Helena who would dedicate herself to assisting the rebuilding effort? Was she the brave, dependable Helena who would charge into combat against the Volundr?

  Or was she the shallow, seasick girl who couldn’t commit to any of those versions of herself?

  She knew the answer. It made her want to puke.

  Lii: “H-Helena..!? Are you okay?”

  Helena: “Yeah. I’m fine.” She couldn’t but feel a little aggravated that her turmoil was obvious enough for Lii to see. She leaned back, chugging the rest of her tea in one go. “How’d you do it, Lii?”

  Lii: “Huh? Um, do what?”

  Helena: “Decide who you wanted to be. Your decision must’ve been even harder than mine—you weren’t just picking between traits, but fighting against your instincts, your nature as a Mimic. How did you decide that you wanted to change?”

  Lii: “Th-that’s…” Her face twisted, an uncomfortable gaze cast downward.

  Was that question too insensitive? She’d never thought much about her own past self; he’d just been a little kid that didn’t know he was Helena yet. In Lii’s case, though, her past self wasn’t a part of her—it was someone else, a monster that had done things she deeply regretted, that went against all of her current values.

  Shit. She really was a terrible friend.

  She was about to apologize when Lii began to speak again. “I-I was… on a hunt, when it happened.” She swallowed spit. “We were near a marsh, I think. I was… ch-chasing someone, and they fell in the shallow water. I…”

  Lii paused again, taking a deep breath. Helena leaned forward, reaching towards her.

  Helena: “Lii, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. I shouldn’t have—“

  Lii shook her head, eyes shut tight. “No, no. It’s fine. I’m fine. I want to tell you.” She inhaled deeply. “I looked down at her, the person I was chasing, and… I-I guess it was just coincidence, but she looked almost exactly like me. M-my face was reflected right next to hers.

  “I guess it… it finally made my reality click together. For so long, I-I’d just been acting on instinct, like… like an a-animal with human thought. But then, seeing someone who could’ve been m-me, I… I realized what I was actually doing. I realized who I’d been doing it to. It made me sick, so… I left. And I started thinking about who I was, about what I was, and it disgusted me.”

  Helena’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t find the right words to respond. “I’m sorry,” she finally forced out. “But I’m glad you’re here. You did the right thing, once you had the means to. I’m glad you changed into the Lii I know.”

  Lii: “I’m glad too, but… I-I didn’t choose anything. I only got the chance because of happenstance. If I hadn’t been at that village, if we hadn’t run into the water, if that girl had looked just a little less like me, I’d still be a monster.”

  Helena: “That’s not true.” She tightened her fists and stood, stepping over to Lii and clasping one of the girl’s hands in both of hers. “After you had that realization, you could’ve gone right back to being a monster. That would’ve been easier, even. But you didn’t. You worked hard, and you made the choice to become a person instead.”

  Lii stared up at Helena, her tired eyes wide. She was speechless. Then, her face began to redden, her eyes rapidly glancing between Helena and their hands. Seeing this, Helena stepped back and hid her hands behind her back.

  Helena: “Sorry, uh. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  Lii: “N-no, it’s, um. It’s fine.”

  Helena glanced away, eager to change the subject. “I’m kind of jealous. Of how you managed to do that, I mean.”

  Lii blinked away her blush. “You are?”

  Helena: “Yeah. I mean, this isn’t something I’ve ever had to think about before. I’ve always known exactly who I was. I was Sam’s sister. I was Annie’s daughter. I was big, strong, dependable Helena, the one who protected Sam—who protected everyone.

  “But, now… I mean, we’re adults—Sam’s a grown man. He doesn’t need my protection anymore—I mean, not to that degree, anyways. Then Mom’s been gone for over a decade. And compared to the people out here, I’m not really that strong or dependable anymore. None of it applies.

  “Back in the Heap, right before we met you, I had a big argument with Jackie. They said I was lying to myself, pretending to be this serious, cynical person when I was actually kind on the inside. It really pissed me off, but they… they weren’t right about everything, but I think they were right about that. I kind of want them to be right about that.

  “I’ve been thinking about it, ever since we escaped the Heap. That I don’t have to pretend anymore—that I don’t have to be the Helena I built up out of necessity. That I can... change, into someone new, someone better, someone freer—that I should change.”

  Lii: “...but you aren’t sure what you want to be?”

  She nodded. “I’m not even sure what I am now. How much of me is really me, and how much of it is, like, this other, fake me that I built up for Sam’s sake? Which parts do I need to change? How do I even start?”

  Lii was silent for a long while. “I like the Helena I know now. Which, um! I know isn’t what you wanted to hear. But, um… I think, if you try and force yourself to change, you’ll just… end up as another person that you aren’t, again.

  “Wh-what I’m trying to say is, um... Instead of thinking so hard about it, just let yourself change over time. Th-that way, whatever you become is… who you really are.”

  Helena considered this for a while. Could it really be that simple? The key to finding herself was to just be herself? Surely there was more to it. Surely there was something both she and Lii were missing.

  She heard a commotion outside. A shout—Raffica’s voice. The Alphiccan girl was acting as their lookout right now, wasn’t she? If she was shouting, that could only mean—

  The door swung open. Jackie. They glanced between Helena and Lii before speaking,

  Jackie: “Enemy’s coming. Get ready.”

  They were off before either she or Lii could respond. They both stared at the open door for a moment. Then they kicked into gear all at once, Lii scrambling to her feet and rushing out the door, Helena checking the sword at her hip and lifting her shield from its spot propped against the wall.

  She paused for just a second to think, to truly consider herself—her own, true feelings. In this moment, what did she, the real Helena, the natural Helena, want to do?

  She wanted to fight. She wanted to make up for her mistake in Avek Tirion, to prove herself to the others, to be useful this time. More than that, she wanted to protect them.

  She wanted to protect Sam like she always had.

  She wanted to protect Strade, because she knew he cared about her even if he was a crude asshole.

  She wanted to protect Jackie, because she appreciated their company—and to make up for trying to abandon them before.

  She wanted to protect Lii, this shy but earnest girl who was willing to go to such great lengths for her when they’d only met just a week ago.

  The others, too. Sils, who had taken them in and treated them well. Jahd, who had saved them after they crashed in the jungle. Raffica, who’d asked to be her friend with a warm smile. Celeste, who was bedridden back in Avek Tirion, crying because she felt she’d failed her friends.

  In this moment, Helena felt she understood who she was again. She was still the protector, even if she wasn’t the strongest, even if the others didn’t need her. She would do it simply because it was what she wanted to do.

  She stepped through the doorway, greeted by the blinding sun.

  Chapter Glossary:

  Mirres Island - An island east of the Kiyonan mainland. It is where the Forgotten Heap and Tropika are located.