Some chairs had been knocked over in the short lived mayhem. Confusion knitting everyone together in a shared bond that they took all the way beneath the pagoda. Now it was like the rest of the city was frozen in time, waiting for the moment its people would be ready to continue living. There must’ve been some hidden and fickle beauty to admire in this state, bathed in the red lights flowing above him, but the Major had his sights set forward, to the Museum of Mythos. He had gotten the hint, despite the Capitán’s intuition likely being on point, she didn’t need him to stand behind her at such a vulnerable moment in the city’s history. He loathed himself, as he walked onward, that he couldn’t adjust the weight of his presence to fit her needs, that she needed to shoo him away like she was doing. But it was evident enough, the safety that he used to provide her was no longer necessary. Him spending all of his time at Universalis reinforced that, the Capitán could now afford to not have his eyes on her at any moment. Her name and that of the Cors carried the necessary pressure to ensure her safety. Every momentary thought the Major had of dismissing that fact, as if she still needed him to shield her was met with repression. No matter how hard he tried, the thought would always come back to him as he met her eyes. She walked against the current, keeping her sights on an invisible force that only him had seen the full terror of. In the dark of his mind, in the shadow on the sides of his vision, he could see her, taken away, engulfed in the unending mass of gore that had sprouted in the underbelly. She urged him, wordlessly, not to follow so close, but should he disobey? If there was even a chance that her life could be saved by him being just an inch closer, shouldn’t he take it despite her wishes? The silence around him as the Major strode quickly up to the bottom of Helix’s hill only accentuated his discomfort, even while focusing, he had stopped hearing the crowd itself, as if they had quieted down to focus on something he was now too far away to hear. The Major stood tall, the Major stood strong, yet he never felt as weak and small as he did now, his core whistling softly.
Introspection.
Actualization.
The columns of the Museum came into view, offering a faint sense of comfort. Stepping up the steps, the Major could see that one of the two massive ornate doors was halfway open. The imposing gate had always been closed to him and Raime, making that denial the first bond they shared, if you could even call it as such. Without knowing exactly why, seeing the doors finally open for him filled him with imminent dread. Any shift in his preconceived view of normalcy could be a step taken by World-Eater the Major hadn’t yet sensed. He rushed up the steps, dashing inside the museum. Despite the vibrant red lights in the streets facing the museum bathing the entrance in bloody shades, what laid inside wasn’t what the Major had feared. His professor, Sihvan of no renown, was sitting against the wall opposite of the giant doors, his limbs limp and his face sweaty and exhausted. The Major still hurried to his side, fearing an injury. Sihvan must’ve understood his intention because he lazily put up a hand to stop the Major in his stride.
“I’m fine, I’m fine.”
His voice was as tired as he looked but the Major trusted his word, kneeling down to not tower over the slumped professor. He didn’t make any other moves, focusing on Sihvan. As exhausted as he looked, his breathing was steady, his chest rising in a healthy rhythm.
“You’re not gonna ask anything?” Sihvan said, a hint of combativeness seeping from his voice.
“I am not usually one to ask questions.”
“Yeah, you were comfortable letting Raime help you with that.”
The Major got the sense his professor was looking to get a rise out of him, though the attempt wasn’t particularly effective and the frame instead tried to understand what would lead him to tease him this way. He had never done so before, only pushing boundaries from an educator’s perspective. The mention of Raime pained him, in such a short time they’d been poached as a far more useful extension of the Capitán’s will that he could be. They hadn’t boasted about it, the both of them hadn’t even discussed it at all since that day where he let the Capitán take them to the Glassway. The wanderer, always somewhere but never still in their place, their ability to be curious, to be swift on their feet, to stand next to her and not cast a looming shadow around them. Sihvan was aware of that much, what he had left Raime to do in his stead, while he pretended to hold some higher purpose above them. What had he been looking at this whole time? Once the Major became aware he had begun idling in his mind, he noticed Sihvan was looking at him, his breathing still heavy.
“Why are you here?” His professor asked, the forced dry tone in his voice has given way for his usual approachable voice, this time coated in deep melancholy.
“The Capitán guessed you were not part of the march and I could not see you either.”
“Heh,” Sihvan exhaled looking away from him, “Well it’s not really a well hidden secret so of course the Cors would know right? Then is that the question you’re holding in your head? Why didn’t I come to my father’s funeral?”
To be perfectly honest, the Major couldn’t care less, the question hadn’t even crossed his mind, although he had learned enough empathy to not voice that outright. His own reasons for being here mattered very little, out here, the Capitán was doing what needed to be done, and he had no part to play in this. He could be here for Sihvan however, for what it was worth. The Major sat down next to him, no longer protecting Sihvan from the funerary lanterns floating outside. Their procession reflected like waves of red light across the floor of the museum, casting an eerie shadow over the open gate.
“You never introduced yourself as the Old Man’s son. I learned from chatter around your classroom, the Capitán learned from me. If your wish was for this to remain hidden then I have no issue respecting that.”
Sihvan looked at him and back towards the lights, “I have to teach you how to be more selfish, Major. Listen then, this is me being selfish and wanting someone else to hear this.”
The professor cleared his throat and sighed.
“So since you didn’t ask either, the reason why I’m barely able to stand up right now is because when the news caught up to me, I kind of just stood there. Everyone seemed to agree to gather up where the cleaners would lay down the body. Was that something they even planned ahead of time? Those lanterns, that whole ceremony? I didn’t follow and I didn’t want to think so I… made myself busy.”
Sihvan mimicked his arms reaching out to the doors and pushing, the effort clearly making his arms feel the sting.
“Way back when, the doors would open for visitors, or so I was told. My predecessor didn’t care so I thought why should I? But today I opened them myself, and closed them again, and opened them, and closed them and opened them until I couldn’t feel air getting to my lungs. Some people must’ve looked at me funny on their way to City Hall,” Sihvan chuckled weakly, “But by the time I was slumped on the floor I had my excuse to not follow. Saying that out loud, I can’t even imagine how it must sound to you. Kind of the perfect audience, no offense.”
“None taken.”
The Major saw a faint smile struggle to etch itself upon his mouth. Sihvan’s eyes looked more tired and everything else in his body.
“In my mind I always figured that he wouldn’t go quietly, whether he wanted to or not. It just brought me back to when we drifted apart, not much I could do about it. It’s probably hard to imagine for you but there’s a complicated bond that forms with your parent once you’ve understood that they’ve never wanted you in their life. It’s not something that can ever be undone, or if it is then… neither of us made the steps to figure it out. My mother wasn’t nearly as famous as him, she died a normal death, simple construction site accident, and she had the funeral everyone else in this city is accustomed to. A one way trip to the Funerarium. They don’t let you inside, they don’t let you visit the Hearth itself. I understand why now but try explaining that to a kid that just lost their mother and whose father didn’t show up to accompany him to say goodbye. This has to be… This has to sound like meaningless prattle to you but this was all I had, all I was. I had to make myself anew in this museum, find meaning in what I had lost. Thanks to San Carlo I also found a place at Universalis so I think I managed to fix myself up pretty well, managing to look forward without feeling on the brink. I knew there would be a time where it would all be tested, that day when he would finally die. When I was pushing and pulling at the doors I realized I had nothing left of my mother, no encouragement, no fond memories, no traces of her face left in my mind. But I knew I had them at some point, I know I wasn’t alone because it hurt then and it still hurts now, I just… forgot why.”
Sihvan’s eyes had become misty, his voice already weakened faltered between pauses in his words.
“You think there’s something waiting for us after death, Major? Once the Sun takes us?”
“I cannot know.”
“Selfishly, do you believe?”
“Selfishly… I would rather avoid death.”
“That’s comforting,” Sihvan chuckled, “Even if you don’t feel the passage of time through your skin, you still preciously hold onto yourself. Maybe you’re already more selfish than I gave you credit for. Me, I’ve heard all the highs and lows of what faith in the realm beyond death entails. From absolute non-existence to the hidden spires within the clouds where souls go to be born anew… We, mortals, are always linked by having to face the end of our lives at some point, it’s the only common experience we all share despite our differences. Out of all the ones I’ve heard, I found myself coming back to the Scavenger’s path, back when they were called Nomads. The first Nomad was non-terrestrial, not a myrrh, not a locus. They spoke of a place between what is and what isn’t, a realm destined for those who open their mind to the seams between the stars. They call it “Neverland”, it’s what motivated them to stay during the Exodus, to accept Terra’s fate and look at the Sun in its eye until the last moment, although they must be getting impatient by now. The descriptions of that first Nomad are as vague as any other theology of the time, based on nothing but belief in something greater, but I like it. I like to think that beyond all the little things that make me sad, tired and angry there’s something else for me, something different way out of my reach but still waiting for me at the end.”
The Major tracked the few tears that had fallen down the sides of his cheeks. Despite it all, Sihvan had kept talking, holding himself together by wrapping his arms around his knees. The Major had seen Willow sit around like this when the Capitán wasn’t around. She only sent death glares his way if he tried to approach her in this state but once again the Major felt an urge to inch closer. He had seen how the Capitán handled Willow when she was there. But the Major was twice the size of Sihvan and he heavily doubted there was any kind of comfort to be found in having him stand any closer than he currently was.
“And I like to think, whatever their wishes were, my parents found their way here as well, even him,” Sihvan cleared his throat and faced the Major, “But enough, well enough about me. Do you have any questions? We just went back to the usual yesterday and I could feel your frustration even if you wanted to hide it. If you have anything else you want to see in the museum…”
“If you offer, then I do have one. Assuming that some part of the Marrow Knight had been recovered from the tree after the events of the tale. After all these centuries, how likely would it be that a piece would have found its way to Last Kunlun?”
“Oh, impossible.”
“Impossible?”
“Yeah, I did mention it when you and Raime first came here right? The city where the Marrow Tree bloomed was the theater for some incomprehensible events, five other cities all around the planet folded into themselves to sprout back up around the Tree. The place became a holy site even before Jiù ēn landed, and it was only accentuated once they acknowledged the Tree as a “lighthouse”. The city wasn’t in a habitable state, the records said it was stuck in a perpetual stasis but still became a pilgrimage site that was vehemently defended. They would have never let anyone just carve a hole in the Marrow Tree.”
“So impossible.”
“Well…”
“Well?”
“Well there isn’t really any pilgrims anymore, the place is a total dark zone like the rest of the world now. If someone could somehow make the trip and survive the sub-zero temperatures, there wouldn’t be anyone stopping them from taking a nick at the tree’s trunk…”
“Not impossible then,” The Major replied, rising to his feet.
“Very, very unlikely.”
Sihvan was right, but same as the Capitán, he started to get impatient of waiting for World-Eater to make its next move.