Lairah finds herself with unexpected thoughts. For in her dark cage, she thinks about escape, about her return to New Elysia, yes, but also…
She thinks of the Summoner.
Their confrontation atop Rig One plays across her mind’s eye. She fought for the twins, and failed to hold on. When Roland interposed himself between her and Erika, she threatened to go through him.
His response still stuns her.
“I don’t believe you will.”
He didn’t know me. I’d already fought him twice. I’d given him no reason to believe anything of me other than villainy.
Why did he give me the benefit of the doubt? Why did he trust I wouldn’t kill him where he stood, to get to Erika?
The Summoner is a contradiction — scholar, but also warrior. Warrior, but also kind. Forgiving even his enemies. Trusting in goodness in those he knows nothing about.
Kind-hearted, soft, weak in so many ways. Yet resonating with a stalwart conviction.
Lairah gazes skyward, or towards what she believes is the sky. There is no sky in her cage, nor even gravity’s pull, leaving her unmoored, with no sense of where to go — if there even is anywhere to go.
But Lairah fixes her gaze skyward nonetheless, for the hope it inspires within her. Even a caged bird longs to fly — and this bird will not remain caged forever.
Sensory deprivation is a cruel tactic to try to shatter Lairah’s resolve. She cannot feel — when she reaches out her hands, or moves her legs, or tries to turn, to stand or sit or walk, there is only the thought, no feeling of response, no knowledge of if she was able to move her body or not. There is no sound, and she cannot hear even the sound of her own heartbeat, or her breathing, though she knows her heart still beats, she still draws breath. There is no smell, no taste.
And there is the crushing darkness, so deep and complete that having sight would serve no one in this cage. Lairah remembers what Athos said to Roland in Fujitoshi:
“Walk by faith, Summoner. Not by sight.”
A gross misuse of the proverb. But it opens Lairah’s eyes — so to speak.
You use it to taunt, to flaunt your power. But the truth beneath your bastardization — that, I can trust. That, I can use to spread my wings and fly free.
And so, in the nothingness of her cage, Lairah worries not how to see, how to find her way. She doesn’t need to worry.
She just needs to pray.
Like everyone from New Elysia, she exists outside of time. The world beyond New Elysia is so far removed from Elysia’s sealing, from the Fracturing and the collapse that led to the end of that golden age.
But Lairah remembers Elysia. She remembers the world as it was, long ago. She lived it, grew up in it — grew up in the blessed embrace of the Composer’s Song, which rang out so clearly back then, cradled in the golden land of Elysia.
What she and the rest of her exiles did, why they were exiled… she wears those sins as the deepest scars, embedded in her heart. She longs for home, longs for reunion… but she also knows just how far she and her people have fallen. She knows that none of them deserve to return.
But the Composer didn’t demand their lives for their betrayal. He blessed them with a home, and a Songbird of their own. They could no longer live in Elysia — but they did not have to pay for their sins with their lives.
Here and now, so long after her exile, so long since she’s prayed, Lairah pleads with the Composer, the Creator of the world she so loves, for forgiveness. And for the grace to set things right.
Please. Let me return to New Elysia. If my people can still be woken up, if there is any hope left for us… help me to light the way. I can’t do it alone. But if You haven’t completely forsaken us, forsaken me…
Then I know I’m not alone.
She feels so small. So distant from her first love, the beauty and joy that captivated her as a child, that instructed her early days, before she turned away with her fellow exiles.
But that love still smolders in her heart, in the forgotten places deep within. All those glowing embers need is a single spark of the True Light — and she can burn bright again.
Then, something happens. It is nothing so dramatic as a burst of light, as a flood of emotion or sudden surge of power. The Hand of the Divine is subtler in the modern age than it was of old.
But that does not mean its power is any less potent.
There is a soft click. The undoing of a latch — such a small sound. But for a caged bird, it is the glorious symphony of freedom.
Lairah takes the first step she’s taken in time she couldn’t measure. One step — from darkness, to light.
Tears sting her eyes.
Thank You.
One step turns to more, speeding her onward. She won’t for one moment waste this gift of escape.
——
Roland lies in the water, submerged, on the cusp of drowning as soon as his lungs demand another breath.
Who am I?
What am I doing? What did I ever think I could accomplish?
Failure weighs heavily upon him. Grief, six years removed, still seizes his heart with a suffocating pressure.
But a voice calls to him. A memory — fresher than it had once been.
“Brave heart, Roland.”
Alystair’s voice, warm and craggy, always with a little hint of amusement, on the edge of a smile even in the dourest of circumstances.
I don’t deserve your faith in me.
But even as he tries to banish the memories, Alystair’s voice from Aîrchal breaks through his resistance.
“What is lost can always be found again.”
He’d been speaking of Eilidh — but in this moment, the memory seems fresh and new, the words spoken now to Roland, of himself, lying in the water, waiting for the end.
Roland sat up with a start, coughing and gasping, sucking in the breath that, if he’d stayed in the water a moment longer, would have drowned him.
“What are you doing?” asked his child self, glowering at him. “You were so close to making things right.”
“This isn’t the way,” Roland said, shaking his head.
“You lack conviction,” said another Roland, this one an adult. He stepped in and reached his hand for Roland’s face, to shove him back down into the water.
But Roland slapped his hand away. When the other Roland moved on him with more aggression, Roland spun on his back, kicking out his legs and knocking the other Roland off his feet. He leapt to stand, adopting a fighting stance.
“You’re right,” Roland said.
And yet…
“But perhaps you’re wrong,” he continued. “Because I’m not ready to die just yet.”
“What could you possibly be living for?” the other Roland asked. And his voice was part of a chorus — dozens of Rolands, children, teens, adults, surrounding him. “What has living brought you so far? Thirty-four years, and what have you accomplished?”
“I’ve formed pacts with the First Quartet,” Roland said. “I’ve kept the twins safe so far. I’ve made friends, true companions I can count on for the future.”
“But to what end?” asked the chorus. “Lacie is too powerful to be stopped. And the world’s heart — a broken crystal remains broken. Like glass, it must be replaced — and there is no replacement for a heart.”
“It isn’t about me,” Roland said. One member of the chorus stepped forward, throwing a punch that Roland dodged, blocking to the side. Another Roland spun in with a kick and Roland ducked under it, striking his leading leg to throw that Roland off-balance. “And it isn’t about certainty. I don’t know what to do about the insurmountable obstacles before us.”
“Then why continue to fight?” the chorus asked. Two Rolands went on the attack, and Roland darted between them, blocking their attacks and making his way outside of the circle, just as the rest of the chorus started moving to close in on him. “Why take any more steps towards the unknown?”
“Because it’s unknown!” Roland said. He wheeled on the chorus, and for a moment they paused, watching him. “I’m lost, and I haven’t yet found my way. But I believe that what is lost can be found again. What is unknown can be known. I don’t know what answers lie on the other side of this journey. I have no idea if I can heal this world, if I can stop the calamity that Lacie is preparing. But I know that faith was placed in me by my Teacher. From the dead, for the living — no one has yet reached Eilidh. But if Alystair believes I can… I have to try.”
“You failed him to his death,” said the chorus, and three Rolands leapt at him. He danced away from their attacks, then whirled around them, knocking one into another, pushing them all back.
“And yet he still trusts me!” Roland said. “I don’t deserve it, but I’m not going to forsake this gift he’s given me. I have no answers, no certainty. Tsubasa and I… we saw the power of Lacie firsthand. It’s too much. But someone has to stop her, somehow. And the twins… all of their answers lie at home, in New Elysia, a place we have no idea how to get to. And yet we keep pushing forward. Together… that’s how we’ve come this far. If I give up now, I fail them all.”
The chorus hesitated. They did not press the attack, but watched him, waiting.
“I need to know what comes next,” Roland continued. “If I keep pushing ahead — if I don’t give up on them, and their trust in me. My journey cannot stop here.”
The chorus stepped back. Their postures relaxed, their expressions softening.
One by one, the other Rolands vanished, until only one was left: a child. The child Roland had been when he’d lived in the orphanage, without friends or parents, a child with nothing but questions and a whole world around him that was too big, too unknown.
I haven’t changed all that much since then.
“You’re determined,” the child said.
“I am,” Roland said.
“Very well,” the child said. “I wish you luck. I hope you find answers, at last.”
The child vanished.
A soft song filled the vast, misty arena. A new chorus: Kirin, Viatos, Shureen, and Jurall, singing their songs in perfect harmony. It was a small thing, no grand proclamation of judgment or completion of his Trial.
But when the mists vanished, and Roland stood back on the top of the tower, with Muirrach, Tsubasa, and the twins around him, he didn’t have any question about whether he’d passed or not.
Especially since he could feel the First Quartet again. They sang in his heart, filling the space that had been so empty during the Trial.
“You’re back!” Tsubasa said, rushing to his side. “Well? Success?”
Roland smiled. After hearing his own voice belittling him, Tsubasa’s voice was a welcome sunrise. “Yes,” he said.
“Never doubted you for a second!” Tsubasa cheered. She wrapped him in a hug, and Roland gladly accepted it, hugging her back.
“What comes next?” Erika asked.
“I’m not sure,” Roland said. He looked down at the platform atop the tower. It was similar to the circular platform that had carried them up to the floating towers. Would this carry them to the central spire?
And what awaited them in that innermost sanctum?
Jurall began to sing an answer, when a new song rang out. A sudden, piercing song, a dread terror that swept over the land in a rush, drowning out every other noise, every other thought. Roland froze, even breath halting under the weight of a fear like nothing he’d ever known before, or would ever know since. Not even the clash between Lacie and Fujiryuu had inspired such awesome terror.
And then the song faded, and with it the fear. Roland gasped, suddenly able to move again.
“What… was that…?” Erika asked, shivering.
“It came from miles away…” Tsubasa said softly, her eyes tracking towards the horizon. “Whatever it was… whatever battle is unfolding… it’s like nothing we can imagine.”
“Will we be okay?” Enrique asked. He hugged his sister, rubbing her arms for warmth.
“I can’t believe it…” Vi sang in Roland’s heart. “Fighting the Hunter… is he crazy?”
Vi? Do you know what’s happening?
“Bits and pieces,” Vi sang. “But… we’re okay. Their duel doesn’t concern us.”
If you’re sure.
“Of course I’m sure! Well done with the Trial, by the way. We tried to tell you, but got rudely interrupted… Anyway. This is just the start. Head on in to the center. That’s where things really begin.”
Roland relayed Vi’s comments to his team, and then they assembled on the stained glass platform. Roland hummed the tunes of the First Quartet, and the glass shifted, shone with light, and the platform took flight.
“What happens next?” Enrique asked.
“I’m not sure,” Roland said. “I… didn’t even know what to expect from the Trial of the First Quartet.”
“Oh, yeah, what happened in there?” Tsubasa asked.
“I’m… not sure how to talk about it, yet,” Roland said. “Give me some time to process it.”
“You got it,” Tsubasa said.
“Other Summoners have come this far before,” Roland said. “But the nature of the Trials at Aula Fantasia, and the innermost sanctum… these are secrets. One can only know by experiencing them for themselves.”
Their platform reached the innermost sanctum, and a door of colored glass slid open, revealing a chamber filled with mosaics of the members of the First Quartet in all their elemental glory. The platform touched down, and the group stepped off, making their way forward through another door, which led them down a long corridor that opened out into a towering chamber — the center of the floating spire, completely hollow up to the very top, its open roof at a dizzying height above them.
In the center of the chamber there was yet another circular platform of stained glass — was there somewhere farther to travel to?
But the question died as Roland approached the platform, and someone moved out from the shadows by the far wall.
She was a rabbit, and tall for a rabbit, nearly as tall as Roland. Slender and grey, with silvery-white at the ends of her tall ears and in streaks around her eyes, she was dressed in voluminous robes of silver and grey. A belt cinched around her waist held pouches containing various tools of her trade — star charts, handheld telescopes and lenses, and other navigational and astronomical tools.
Roland stared in shock. “Maestro Brahe?” he asked.
“In the fur,” said Vesper Brahe, pushing her half-moon spectacles up. Her voice had a wise yet straightforward timbre, embodying her incredible intelligence as well as a businesslike determination to get to the point. “We finally meet, Roland. Alystair’s told me a great deal about you.”
“You knew my Teacher?” Roland asked. It was hard to find his voice. Here she was, the creator of the Hebrides Helioscope, the greatest astronomical and mathematical mind in the realms, standing here as if she’d been waiting for him, meager Second Level Tuning Assistant that he was.
“There’s a great deal you don’t know about Alystair,” Vesper said. “He touched many lives, not just your own. And he asked his companions from his own Path to meet you here, when you finally formed pacts with the First Quartet, to ready you for what comes next.”
“He… wait,” Roland said, his mind a whirl of questions from just one sentence. “His own Path? Alystair… he walked the Path of the Eight?”
“Of course he did,” Vesper said, scoffing. “Come now, boy. Alystair talked up your intelligence so much. Don’t go disappointing him. He knew too much about the Fantasians to have just been a scholar. Only a Summoner can ever enter a Fantasian’s Cloister.”
Roland stared, stunned by this simple truth that he should have realized years ago. When he’d entered Shureen’s Cloister the first time… Alystair had come with him.
A Summoner could bring their companions into a Canon. But the Cloister was holy ground. It was meant only for those called to the path of a Summoner. One just studying the Fantasians would never have been allowed to enter.
How did I never see it?
“His companions…” Muirrach said softly. “You traveled with him on his Path.”
“Clearly,” Vesper said. “Our friendship goes back at least as far as yours. I’m surprised it took us this long to meet, Muirrach. Especially considering… well.” She looked back towards the shadows, and Roland’s heart skipped a beat.
Out from the shadows stepped a second person — this one a frogkin, as tall as Muirrach, with smooth, blue skin like her brother’s. She still wore the black uniform with black butterfly insignia she’d worn on Rig One — a fact Vesper seemed displeased by.
“Eilidh,” Roland and Muirrach murmured as one.
——
The mists and whispers of the Looking-Glass realm were eerie, unsettling. Guinevere hadn’t liked it the first time she’d traveled this way, and she liked it even less the second.
It felt like a world of phantoms. And she’d had enough of one particular Phantom to spend any time with others.
But if this was an escape from the Sword Dancers that hunted them even when Asbel was no longer a threat, then Guinevere would tolerate it without complaint.
Though if it was an escape… a question arose.
And with that question, a realization. Tobias was in no state to keep fighting. His duel with Bandersnatch was awe-inspiring, beyond anything she could have imagined of him — and she’d seen him accomplish such incredible feats that she’d begun to believe the impossible of him.
But as incredible as it was that he’d survived, and more incredible still that he seemed to have earned the respect of the Old Hunter, that desperate battle had taken a toll that would not heal quickly or easily.
The phantom corridor was, blessedly, short. Tobias, Alice, and Flynn dropped into the pool at the end, vanishing from sight. Guinevere was right behind them with Ava, her stomach doing a flip as she dropped down through a pool of water…
And emerged face-forward, exiting a mirror as if she’d walked through it like a door, not dropped through it from above. She took a moment to compose herself, then stepped aside so that the others could come through.
“Will they be able to follow us?” she asked, now that she could speak without phantom whispers stealing her words away.
“The glass will turn back to flowing water,” Tobias said, the strain in his voice, the hitch in his breath, making Guinevere feel guilty for making him talk. “We’re safe.”
“So,” Alice said, looking up at him. “Merlin?”
“We’re close,” Tobias said.
Guinevere finally took in where they stood. It didn’t seem too far from where they’d left — they must still be in Northern Wonderia, judging from the snow and biting winter wind. But instead of a rushing river, they now stood in a clifftop cavern, with a stunning view of a sprawling world far below, a wondrous snowscape shot through with rivers and valleys, and grand mountains far beyond.
And there was still the sound of rushing water, but more of a roar here than where they’d come from.
This wasn’t just a clifftop. It was the top of a waterfall.
Guinevere rushed to the edge, looking out and down at the waters below, foaming as they burst over the edge of the cliff, pouring down in a glorious, thundering cascade to fill the icy lake below that fed out into all the rivers snaking through the world beyond.
It was incredible.
“Who is this Merlin?” Sheena asked.
“Our Teacher,” Elliot said. “We promised we’d return to him when we learned everything we could of Auge Gerecht. We didn’t learn as much as we’d like, but knowing what we know now about Zweitracht’s connection, and Lacie and her plans…”
“It’s about time we returned,” Tobias said. Then he turned to Sheena, and gave a weary, but genuine, smile. “You’re just a wish away from seeing Asbel whole again.”
Sheena smiled, tears shining in her eyes. Her hand went to the kantetsubo at her hip that now contained her brother. “Thank you all for your help,” she said. “Now… we go to Elysia. Even then, though — he’ll need further help, once his human form is restored.” She looked to Ninian, and Guinevere. “He is a songbird, as well, in conflict with the Song inside him. You’ll… help him. Won’t you?”
Ninian sang, and the joy of her promise made Guinevere’s heart dance.
“Thank you,” Sheena said softly.
Then there was another song on the air. A high shriek, like a diving bird of prey — followed by a whistling melody, that reminded Guinevere of a nightingale. But where a nightingale’s song was hopeful, encouraging, there was a note of malice mixed into this bird song.
“That’s not…” Tobias started, a hint of dread in his voice.
And then they all stopped and stared, as a creature fluttered through the air, flying past each of them in turn.
A black butterfly, unperturbed by the winter wind.
The butterfly fluttered away, and then the birdsong returned, more ominous than before.
Flynn barked a warning. Someone grabbed Guinevere — Elliot, she thought, though everything happened so suddenly, she couldn’t comprehend it all.
The song had been a herald of destruction. And just like when Saoirse’s palace had come crumbling down, their perch high atop the waterfall suddenly exploded, the earth shattering beneath Guinevere’s feet as her ears popped from the cacophony, ringing. She was being pulled, and she ran, barely able to keep her feet, the world collapsing around her, bursting up in front of her, limiting her vision to just a few feet ahead, and limiting her comprehension to nothing.
Her heart lurched as she was pushed, tossed into a desperate leap. She was free-falling, flailing, and for a moment she emerged through the debris and saw the heart-stopping sight beneath her.
The world was opening up, the ground ripping open. A new Fracture being born, right before her eyes.
Then she hit the ground feet-first, and dropped hard. Her head crashed against rock, and her world went black.
——
“Darling,” Eilidh said, inclining her head to Muirrach. “Roland,” she said, smiling at him.
“Why… what are you doing here?” Enrique asked, stepping in front of Erika to shield her.
“I love your protective spirit,” Eilidh said, smiling warmly at Enrique. “Don’t ever lose it. But I’m not here to bring harm. I certainly don’t have any quarrel with a pair of mockingbirds.”
“Don’t call them that!” Tsubasa said, glaring at Eilidh.
“One cannot change their nature,” Eilidh said. “And unlike my Lady, I don’t view mockingbirds with disdain. Their name is unfortunate — for their songs are unique, and uniquely beautiful.”
“Eilidh, I —” Roland started.
“I’d rather do the talking, if you don’t mind,” Eilidh said, raising a hand. “I’m sure you have a lot you’d like to say to me. But I have my own place in this world, my own path to walk. And the reason I’m here has nothing to do with that. I’m here for Alystair — and for you. He wanted us to make sure we prepared you for what’s next. As if he… knew he wouldn’t be able to do it himself.” Her gaze dropped for a moment, and her smile vanished. “You’d think a sister would know her brother better. For all the questions you have of Alystair, I have just as many — left unanswered.”
“Another world awaits you,” Vesper said. “You’ve undoubtedly wondered where the Second Quartet can be found. Wonderia? Albia?” She shook her head. “Look beyond the scope of geography.”
“Another world…” Roland murmured. He eyed the stained glass platform, and the high rise up through the spire, to an opening at its top.
The center of Aula Fantasia, its highest point, opened out to a place higher still.
Could it be…?
“Follow that train of thought,” Vesper said, and Roland looked to see her smiling.
“You don’t mean… the sky?” Roland asked.
“The sky?” Tsubasa asked. “Wait…” She gasped, grabbing Roland’s arm, her own excitement contagious.
“What is it?” Erika asked.
“Go ahead,” Vesper said, nodding to Roland.
“The Second Quartet watches over us,” Roland said, his eyes tracking skyward once more. “Another world… they await us in the Sky-Sphere.”
“The Sky-Sphere!” Tsubasa cried with excitement.
“They’re… in the stars?” Enrique asked.
“It would be more accurate to say among the stars,” Vesper said. “Theories spring from a grain of truth. There is indeed a great sphere encompassing this realm. A world of sky and stars. A world like nothing you’ve ever dreamed. Well — nothing some of you’ve dreamed.” Her gaze fixed on the twins.
“What do you mean?” Erika asked.
“Perhaps you were too young to realize when you left,” Vesper said. She looked to Roland, instead.
And the answers clicked into place. A vessel unlike anything he’d ever seen — and tales of a journey from a place described as “watching over Wonderia…”
“New Elysia,” Roland whispered. “It lies in the Sky-Sphere.”
“Tucked in the shadow of the Cúplach,” Vesper said. “Your journey will have to take you there — for one of the Second Quartet is inextricably linked to that refuge.”
“Zexal,” Roland said.
“Forget all you know from your journey to meet the First Quartet,” Eilidh said. “Theirs is a power primal. What comes next is a greater mystery. And it begins where your journey to the First Quartet ended.”
Roland puzzled over that a moment, and then looked at the stained glass platform. Where the ones that had carried them up through Aula Fantasia had borne reliefs of Kirin, Vi, Shureen, and Jurall, this one was split in four quadrants that represented the Second Quartet: Zexal, Huill, ChronoLogy, and Luna.
Where the first journey ended…
“Luna,” Roland said. “We go to the Lord of the Second Quartet before the rest.”
“Correct,” Vesper said. She chuckled. “You are a sharp one. I see why Alystair liked you. Unlike the Lord of the First Quartet, Luna is actually helpful. She’ll serve as your guide on this journey into the unknown. The roads ahead were not made for those who walk on the land. Trust her — and help her. Things have gone terribly wrong.”
“What do you mean?” Tsubasa asked.
“No Summoner has completed the Path since Alystair walked it,” Eilidh said. “The barrier lies with what has gone wrong in New Elysia — with Zexal, and the fallout that rippled out from his sudden instability. We were unable to set things right. The task now falls to you.”
“Just like our parents’ reports,” Enrique said. “Zexal became unstable. Because of something Athos did, or Rylance, or both.”
“Then why not come with us?” Muirrach asked. He wouldn’t look away from Eilidh. “Together we stand a far better chance than apart.”
“We have our own tasks to attend to,” Vesper said. “Some of them less honorable than others.” She shot a distasteful glare Eilidh’s way at that.
“Your party is more than capable,” Eilidh said, smiling. “You’ve come this far, after all.”
“More than that,” Vesper said, her ears twitching, her gaze flicking to Roland. “You have a curious device in your pocket. Something that should help you navigate the twists of time that we could not resolve.”
“Twists of time…” Roland started, then realized what she meant. A gift given, back in Thadheine, at a parting. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the sphere on its silver chain, the gift Tock had given him and Tsubasa. In the sphere, three separate clock faces were layered over each other, intricate clockwork running a complex series of patterns. “How did you know?”
“My ears are particularly keen when it comes to technology,” Vesper said. “And they’ve never heard something quite like that before. But they can parse something of its function. Whoever granted you that device somehow knew what lies ahead for you — and prepared you better than anyone else could.”
“Our home…” Erika said softly. “Have you… been there? Have you seen what’s become of it since we left?”
“We were unable to enter New Elysia itself,” Vesper said. “We were able to reach Zexal’s Canon through a clever workaround, courtesy of yours truly. From what we could see… much of that refuge had gone dark. But there were parts of it aglow with an eerie light. Evil workings are taking place there, hidden and locked away. Be ready, once you do enter those halls.” She shivered. “Even a glimpse was horrifying enough.”
“You’ll be all right,” Eilidh said. “You didn’t give up hope after seeing my Lady contend with a Dragon. Your determination is… well.” She chuckled. “I always knew you had the fire of conviction inside you, Roland. You just needed the right spark to kindle it.” She withdrew a small journal from her jacket pocket, and tossed it to Roland. He caught it, and saw that it was clasped shut, its clasp bearing a keyhole. But tied to the journal with a red ribbon was a small key that looked like a perfect fit. “Alystair’s notes. He wrote these specifically for you, to have when you completed the first Trial of Aula Fantasia. I don’t know what they contain. Guidance for the next half of the Path, or perhaps deeper musings, answers to questions you may still harbor about your Teacher.”
“But you said you still carry many questions, too,” Roland said.
Eilidh smiled, but there was a bitterness in it. “I haven’t read it,” she said. “Those words were written for you and your companions. But perhaps, when you’ve completed your Path… you might share their contents with me. If you believe it appropriate.”
“I will,” Roland said.
Eilidh chuckled. “Don’t make promises before you know what they entail,” she said.
“He was your brother,” Roland said. “And you…” He faltered. Alystair’s faith in him, in Roland more than anyone else being able to reach Eilidh and pull her back from the road she walked, felt too much for him to live up to.
“Sing the next song, Summoner,” Eilidh said. “Open the way to the Sky-Sphere.”
Roland didn’t know what she meant, at first. But in the silence that followed, he heard the hum of song around him. It was subtle, a soft undercurrent springing up from the crystals all around.
But he realized this song was not that of Kirin, Vi, Shureen, or Jurall. The First Quartet’s familiar tunes did not resonate here.
This was a new song. One of starlight, and moonlight. Of a new world, one he’d never dreamed he’d ever set foot in.
He listened, and softly began to hum, learning the ethereal melody. It was mysterious, but not ominous. There was a hope embedded in these soft, gentle notes.
When Roland learned the song, he lifted his voice and sang it out. Once he’d sung through the first wordless stanza, the stained glass platform in the center of the spire bloomed with light. These weren’t multicolored lights, though, matching the colors of the Fantasians represented.
This was one brilliant shine of white light. It started as a glow on the surface of the platform, and then burst upwards, a great pillar of light that shot up and out of the spire.
To the new world waiting for Roland.
“Step into the light, Summoner,” Vesper said. “Luna awaits. And… brave heart, Roland. It’s no easy feat, I know. And you have a heavy task ahead of you. We came closest to setting foot within New Elysia. Now it’s your turn — go one step further than anyone else has. Finish what Alystair started. He believed you could. I trust him — and I’m getting a good feeling about you. Don’t disappoint, hm?”
Roland nodded, blinking at sudden tears. Tsubasa rested a hand on his shoulder, and Muirrach a hand on his other shoulder. Erika grasped Roland’s hand, and Enrique came up on Roland’s other side, looking up at him encouragingly.
Roland took a deep breath. Breathing in all the hope and encouragement he was being given here.
Breathing out as much of the doubt and despair as he could. It wouldn’t all leave him. Not all at once, not so easily.
But when he stepped towards the pillar of light, he could feel the turning of the page. One chapter coming to a close — and a bright new one opening up before him.
And with it, he felt a surge of courage, and a sudden inspiration. Inside the pillar of light, he could see outside it, to Vesper and Eilidh watching on the other side.
“Eilidh,” Roland said. “I can’t possibly know what the love of a mother truly feels like. But the love you showed me… I can’t imagine a better mother. Thank you.”
He saw the sudden mix of emotions in Eilidh’s eyes, surprise and joy, sorrow and resistance. It was a sudden flicker, before Eilidh turned away, hiding her face.
But her next words brought more tears to Roland’s eyes, tears he’d treasure:
“I couldn’t imagine a better son.”
The light shone brighter, and the platform began to rise. Roland kept his eyes on Eilidh until he couldn’t see her anymore, even though she wouldn’t turn back to look at him again.
He felt Muirrach’s hand on his shoulder, a grip that tightened with pride.
And then Roland lifted his eyes. To the light. To the sky.
His heart thrilled at the new adventure that awaited him. But it also burned with a promise to return. To finish mending what had been broken for too long.
——
Lairah gazes out the viewport of her personal craft, a flying vessel that carries her skyward.
There shines a brilliant pillar of white light on the horizon. A pillar of light that shoots all the way to the sky — a bridge connecting one world to the next.
Fare thee well, Summoner. We both begin a new chapter, at the same time.
I’ll see you when you arrive in New Elysia.
She pushes her control yoke forward, urging speed to her craft, and darts into the sky, leaving one world behind, to return to the one she left behind.
Here ends Song of Elysia’s second story Arc
The story continues in Arc III, coming 9/4/2024