[[Spoilers: For Lost Future and Azran Legacy.
Set: During and after LF.]]
Looking Forward
It was when Flora joined them in the future that Luke began to wonder.
Flora asked Big Luke what had become of her older self. Regretfully, he replied that Future Flora had moved far, far away.
Luke was almost too afraid to inquire after his parents. Things hadn't been great between them since Dad announced they were moving. The last time they had broached the topic, Luke declared he was staying with the professor and slammed a door in his dad's face. Nonetheless, Luke hoped he and Mum were safe in the future, wherever they were, just like Emmy and all of their other friends.
Future Layton would never hurt them… Would he? Much to Luke's relief, Big Luke confirmed everyone was accounted for, though he rarely heard from any of them.
There was one person Big Luke didn't mention.
"What about… Aurora?" The question slipped out, tentatively optimistic.
"Aurora?" Big Luke echoed.
"Have you seen her– her reincarnation, I mean?" If she really was reborn when they left the Azran Sanctuary, she should be ten or eleven in this time. Melina was believed to have been the reincarnated Ambrosian queen. Nothing was impossible.
A cautious professor and a confused Flora turned to Big Luke. The latter glanced away, adjusting his tie with a cough.
"No… Sorry, I've never seen her."
Luke sighed, sounding like the Bostonius when it took to the sky. Maybe that was for the best. She wouldn't have to witness this horrible future– the future Evil Layton had apparently caused. The same man who had assured Aurora they would evolve without the Azran's influence and learn from their mistakes.
Who knew what the world looked like outside of London… Was the sky always such a stale colour? How many animals had gone extinct? Did all people live in fear?
To think, they had stopped the golems and Aurora had sacrificed herself, only for the future to fall into ruin. It was inevitable…
Or was it?
Just because Big Luke hadn't met her, it didn't mean Aurora's reborn-self wasn't out there, somewhere. Luke refused to let the darkness of Future London reach her.
It was his… their mission, as he frequently reminded Flora. They weren't here for sightseeing! Then, she reminded him, sadly, "We'll only be together for a short while…"
Soon, he would be miles away with an ocean between them.
So, he shared a cake with her at the café, hunted for books at the library and nearly turned the pet shop upside down in his excitement.
He didn't see ghosts of the past, like the professor, but every so often he would send a wistful glance at passers-by.
"Get ready," Big Luke warned, grabbing his attention. The Towering Pagoda was in sight.
Luke raised his head high and fixed his cap
Time to build a better future.
My earliest memory is of the attack on London. Specifically, the smell of smoke. Our house wasn't close enough to be crushed, Mum recalls in a hoarse voice, but it was close enough to catch fire. At first, Dad thought it was his fault, thought his oven had been left on at the bakery. There was no time to check.
We had to flee our home with the other surviving residents, seeking solace on the edge of the River Thames. From there, we watched the flames climb into the sky and the metal monster sink into the ground. Honestly, I'd fallen asleep by then, but people tell me that's what happened.
London burned that day, and it wasn't by accident. At the time, I was too young to grasp the concept of 'revenge'. My take on it was if someone pushed you down, you pushed them back. That was only fair. But revenge isn't fair. It's pushing someone back and kicking them in the teeth. It's desolating a city after your house gets blown up.
(It's wiping out an entire species– future descendants and all– for the mistakes of a guilty few.)
Mum thinks I was too young to remember, but I still get… flashes.
Lasers shot from the monster. Our city consumed by flames. Smoke, screams and silence.
Then I wake up in a cold sweat.
Shivering, I snuggle under my blanket and stare up at the ceiling. My luminous suns, stars and shells offer little comfort. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to sleep. It's no use.
I sit up with a sigh.
Maybe it's time I told someone about this. I look at my bedroom door, slightly ajar and beckoning. Dad has to be up early for work tomorrow, but Mum won't mind. Can I…?
No. I'm too old to be running into my parents' room now. They're just bad dreams– nothing that can hurt me.
I lie down, rigid as a board, and pull the covers up to my chin. Go to sleep! You have school tomorrow– and a test! You can't concentrate if you're tired!
But if I fall asleep, I'll have to see the dream to its conclusion. That's always the worst part– the cold, empty silence. Like the world ended and I'm the last person left…
Only I'm not. After what seems like eternity, I drift off again; the silence is shattered, and I'm greeted by three figures. Brown, yellow and blue. Their faces are blurry, but comforting. Arms wrap around me and I'm immediately flooded with warmth–
"Time to get up, sweetheart. You don't want to be late, do you…?"
It's Dad, shaking me awake. I yawn, glance at the clock and roll out of bed.
I might have overslept, but I can't help feeling content.
