A lonely figure walked through the high iron gates of the Sky Knight Cemetery, observed only by the groundskeeper. It wasn't unusual to see someone at the graveyard at night. There were fewer tourists there. The cemetery was the resting place for countless Sky Knights and members of various Squadrons. The groundskeeper watched as the figure made his way to the most visited graves of the cemetery. The area that held the statue dedicated to the Storm Hawks who had been killed ten years ago. Their bodies had never been recovered from the Wastelands and so the Sky Knight Council had erected the statue in their honour.
For the past ten years, on the same night, the lone figure had made his way through the cemetery to the statue to pay his respects. The groundskeeper had, over the years, come to understand who the figure was and each time this night came around he ensured that the place was empty of anyone else and that he himself stayed hidden. For many years the groundskeeper had found the pilgrimage strange, given who the figure was but in time he had come to learn that the figure sought redemption for his past grievances, crimes and betrayals. The groundskeeper watched the figure walk through the small gate ahead of the Storm Hawk's statue. The groundskeeper smiled sadly at moved closer to the area. For once he wished to see, and possibly hear, what the figure did when he was there and he felt that tonight was his lucky night.
…
I know the groundskeeper is there. I can see him out of the corner of my eye, though he believes he has hidden himself. I don't know his name, nor do I care. I stare up at the moon, not yet ready to gaze upon their faces. Every time I come the moon is full and bright. It mocks me. On Cyclonia there is no moon. There is only a constant red glow. It merely dims when the day is at an end. I never thought that I could hate the colour of my eyes so much as I do now. I no longer look in mirrors, afraid to see that red gazing out at me. The moon has a circle of light around it, like a halo, and I can't help but fear that he is looking down on me. I wonder, what would he say if he could see me now? Standing in the moonlight with a hood pulled low over my eyes to hide my identity. He would laugh at me. Tell me I look ridiculous. It doesn't matter how I look. The groundskeeper recognised me seven years ago, but he has wisely said nothing to me or anyone else. I breathe in and steel myself.
I slowly move my eyes downward to look at them frozen forever in marble, so lifelike and yet so lifeless it scares me. Their faces are gallant, their positioning powerful and foreboding. I shiver but keep my eyes on them. They seem to stare down at me with utter hatred and contempt. I whimper despite myself and look away. I focus on the groundskeeper. He doesn't realise that I'm watching him. He wrongly believes that I am looking past him but I am looking directly into his dull gray eyes. They too are lifeless like marble and yet there is wonderment there. I realise that he heard my unwitting sound of distress. I sneer and look away, to their faces.
I look first upon Marcus. He had been the pilot of The Condor. He had cherished that ship more than anyone else. Marcus' face had been chiselled with a smile and I can't help but feel that he'd be pleased with that. I remember that despite being serious Marcus had been a lot of fun to have around. He had very rarely left the controls on the ship, even sleeping there, but when needed he had come to my rescue more times than I care to count. Marcus had fallen with The Condor and I know that he would have wanted to go that way. Marcus had also been the last to fall and I find that to be rather fitting as well. Marcus had never enjoyed combat and had been the least willing to enter the fray that day. I shiver as I remember him saying that something didn't feel right.
I look next upon the face of the mechanic and strong man, Phel. His face is grim but, as it once did, it has a childish quality to it. Everyone had always found that endearing considering how strong and tough he was. Phel had always been kind to me, and I had made sure that he had fallen second. Things, I had reasoned, would go much more smoothly if Phel was taken care of quickly. And the Cyclonians had seen to that. The idiot Snipe had been sent up against him and he had almost lost. I recall Ravess sending one of arrows at Phel to distract him long enough for Snipe to regain what little composure he had and push Phel off his Skimmer. To me, seeing Phel fall unconscious into the Wastelands had been more than I could bear. I close my eyes and watch the scene replay itself in my head. His fall had been heavy and no one had been able to go to his rescue.
I open my eyes and skim to the face of Kya, tactician and crystal specialist. She had fallen the easiest in a way. It had only taken four Cyclonians to knock her off her Heli-Scooter. I know that she would have given up all hope after seeing the other two fall. She put up an excellent fight but in the end it was too much for her. Her face is soft and yet hard. Her personality had suited that look. She could be the kindest person and then the next thing you knew she was as vicious as any Murk Raider. I can still her face as she fell, conscious and aware. She had screamed at first but then as she gave in to her pain and her fears her eyes had sought me out. Her eyes had betrayed her true feelings. She was petrified but resigned to her fate. I had looked away from the hurt expression on her face. I had killed the man she loved after all.
I look back at the moon still not ready to look at his face. Every year is the same. His face is the one I gaze upon last. And every year I cannot bring myself to speak. Though I desperately want to. The moon continues to mock me as though saying "Look at what you are missing… look at what you are missing…" I close my eyes and I finally look upon my Sky Knight, my captain, my brother. Caleb's face is serene and handsome, though still hard and determined. The artists who created the statue captured the essence of each of them. Especially Caleb, the way his eyes exude authority, power, determination, kindness, laughter, and love. The mix always astounded anyone who looked into his eyes, me included. After a while I got used to it, but there were times when the intensity still got to me.
I can still the look of shock on his face when he saw me standing above him with my blade held at the ready. At first there had been shock and betrayal in those green eyes. But then there was pity and sorrow. He had whispered my name, a pleading, a begging, but I had ignored him. He didn't understand. I had to do it. He would never have understood. His eyes, even in marble, are getting to me. They are burning into my ravaged soul and torturing me. I cry out in my pain and fall to my knees, burying my face in my hands. I no longer care what the groundskeeper does so long as he leaves me be for now. The sobs begin in my heart and make their up my throat and out my mouth. I squeeze my eyes tightly and sob and cry until my throat and eyes are dry. I take my hands away from my face and look up at Caleb. His eyes are full of pity.
"I'm sorry." I manage to croak out. My throat is sore and my voice hoarse and vague. I look at the others and repeat myself to each of them. I'm truly sorry that I betrayed them but I had a good reason. Or so I believe. I realise now that although I had the best intentions to begin with they are gone, along with my sanity. I am a Cyclonian now and I despise myself for everything I have done, and for everything I will do. I betrayed my friends, my family, and for what? The reason has left me. I struggle to remember but then an image comes into my mind of a young child now grown. A red-headed Sky Knight. Aerrow. He was my reason. I killed them to save him and his parents. I failed. The Cyclonians still killed his parents, but he managed to live somehow. I still don't know how. I curse myself.
My reason to destroy my family was to save the life of a child I loved who is now hell-bent on killing me. It makes no sense, it defies logic, and it burns me. The decision I made led to Aerrow becoming a Sky Knight and now I must kill the one I tried to save. Once I was his Uncle Ace, now I am the Dark Ace. An enemy to be vanquished, to be destroyed. The pain inside my chest builds and I cover my face again in an attempt to blot out the images…
Joining the Storm Hawks and putting on my beloved uniform for the first time…
Fighting alongside Caleb and the others…
Healing Caleb's injuries and fearing for his life…
The first time I called Caleb "brother"…
Aerrow running up to me as a toddler and embracing me…
The first Master Cyclonis threatening me…
The last time I saw Aerrow…
Caleb's face as I betrayed him…
Aerrow's face when we meet again and the pain when I see he doesn't remember me…
I scream out in frustration until my face is blue and I have no more strength in me. I look up at their faces and whisper I'm sorry. My breath is coming in gasps and I can barely keep my eyes open. I fall onto my back and things begin to go black. The last thing I see is Caleb's face, behind him the moon. From some distant corner of my memory I hear Caleb's voice…
Once a Storm Hawk, always a Storm Hawk. Remember that Ace. Remember that, my brother.
…
The groundskeeper carries the prone figure of the great Dark Ace to his hut and heaves him up onto the bed. He places a moist cloth on his forehead and begins to make something for him when he wakes. The groundskeeper is bewildered by what he witnessed. He doesn't understand and he never will. All he knows is that the Dark Ace is in turmoil. He is confused and alone. The Dark Ace is repentant. Though he will never understand the full truth, the groundskeeper can understand that at least. And that is enough for him. He knows that the Dark Ace's pilgrimage will continue until the Dark Ace is no more.
The he wakes the Dark Ace refuses the food and simply thanks the groundskeeper for his assistance. Nothing more is said between the two because there is nothing more to say. The Dark Ace leaves and doesn't look back. The groundskeeper watches the dark figure walk away into the night and then looks back at the statue of the Storm Hawks. They too are watching the Dark Ace walk away but they appear to understand.
Every year the Dark Ace returns to the statue of the Storm Hawks. And every year the moon is full and bright. He goes through the same routine every year. He looks up at the moon, then Marcus, Phel and Kya, the moon again holds his attention, and then finally Caleb. This is when he brakes. He never again collapses though he comes close. Every year the Dark Ace makes his pilgrimage and every year the groundskeeper keeps his watch.
The pilgrimage is a journey to a holy place. For many the destination is a grave for these are the people who need to find themselves… these are the people who need to understand themselves and their actions.