A response to the ending of Soldiers of Halla and my attempt to reason out what the fuck happened in the epilogue.
Press was about to do something that went against every law they had just fought to defend and he didn't have a single misgiving about it.
Bobby stood on the edge of the Ravinian star, the edge of eternity, really, and it was sickening to the spirit who dared call himself the boy's uncle that this was the fate he was trapped in. The lead Traveler had said it himself, albeit in a calm, reasonable voice and, as he stood there, stunned stupid in the vast center of the Taj Mahal, the area Saint Dane had transformed into his throne room, Press Tilton couldn't help but agree. It wasn't fair. It wasn't even sensible.
It was flat out idiotic and this was not what he wanted for a boy-a man-who had sacrificed it all for the people of Halla. 'The way it was meant to be' aside, Bobby Pendragon had nearly destroyed himself for Halla, for Second Earth, for the person he had been raised to believe he was. And now, for the sake of keeping with what was normal for Halla, for what was safe, the poor kid was going to be dragged back into a spiritual life that, as great as it would be, would never answer the questions that Press knew his nephew had fixated on from the moment he had dragged him from his house as a innocent and terrified fourteen year old all those years ago.
What could have been?
It was too much to ask.
And Bobby was looking at him in that horribly expectant way again, thinking, Press knew, that he had all the answers.
Did he?
He wasn't sure anymore.
The question was what did this situation merit? He shouldn't bend the rules, that was something he had known for longer than Bobby had had an essence, but still, this wasn't exactly a normal case. This boy, and his friends, the other Travelers-the ones who had already left to be a part of Solara, to exist there (be trapped there) for eternity-had just saved everything and was it fair to ask them to give up the lives they had been fighting so hard for. It had been partly his decision in the first place, to stick these souls with human vessels on territories to grow up as a true citizen of Halla, to learn and to love their worlds, to become who they were based on one of the ten territories, to have the faults of humanity rather than send ten too wise spirits after Saint Dane.
He had done this to them and he had seen the pain they had failed so miserably to hide in each and every pair of the other nine eyes before he sent the Travelers back to Solara for the last time. And now he was seeing the tenth and he could feel actual, physical pain in his heart.
"This isn't fair," he said before he could stop himself and Bobby smiled with a sadness that didn't come from being a soul with ages of experience, but from a boy who became a man much too quickly and gave everything he had as a true Soldier of Halla. The boy would miss Bobby Pendragon, his eyes were screaming it, and Press couldn't say he wouldn't feel the same.
"You're right," the young man's voice was tired, heavy, and Press had already decided, but this cemented it. "But what else can we do?"
One by one, drawn by the consciousness of Press and every single, grateful spirit of Solara, the other Travelers reappeared slowly, their substance forming as if from dust and glistening as it did so in the sparse sunlight from the dome above. Bobby's head snapped around, his eyes wide and his mouth open, as he took in the sight of his nine friends, his nine comrades, as they returned to the physical plane of Halla. And the nine stared back at him, equally stunned, as the return completed itself on Solara's positive strength. This was dangerous, but the Travelers had always been a bit of a dangerous gamble anyways.
They had given everything and he'd be damned if he didn't give them something in return.
"What is happening?" Alder was the first to break the silence and he looked frightened, an expression masked on the other eight who had already been a near distinct member of the Solara plane, "It is not Saint Dane, is it?"
Bobby turned to look at Press and he was looking confused, "What is this, why did you bring them back?"
Press smiled around the circle and he was so proud of them he could burst, "You said it yourself, Bobby, it isn't fair."
There was a pause and then the lead Traveler smiled.
"You're serious?"
"What?" Aja snapped, annoyed at being, once again, out of the loop and she exchanged an impatient look with Loor. Press nodded to his nephew.
"How do you feel about giving those lives another run? What do you say, Bobby Pendragon?"
Smiles were breaking out around the group and Spader was actually bouncing on the balls of his feet. Gunny shook his head, chuckled, and looked at Press, "You're a softie, you know that?"
Press grinned and shrugged, "It's the least I can do for the ten people who saved eternity," he looked back at Bobby and his smile turned serious, "I can offer it. Solara can offer it. Another chance. Another life, a full one, with no demons, no traveling. You can just be…" he paused, searching for the right word in this context. Normal just didn't fit the profile and then he smirked, because the answer was right in front of his face, the thing they had fought so hard for, had sacrificed so much for, "You can just be human," he finished softly and with more conviction than he had ever heard, even in himself.
Bobby looked around at each of his companions and saw what Press saw reflected in the boy's own eyes. It was over and it was time for the soldiers, the true warriors of Halla, to get their peace.
"I'd say bring it on, Uncle Press," the lead Traveler said softly.
Press called upon the spirits of Solara.
There was a pause.
"Will we remember?" Patrick blurted as the energy filled the room and it was clear to everyone that something was changing in their own selves and Press could swear he heard faint music.
"Nah," he waved his hand dismissively in reply.
Bobby's expression turned strained, almost regretful, and Press understood.
"Don't worry," he said softly, "I promise you won't forget."
Yeah, I think it was Press' decision, not Bobby's. Why? I dunno, something about the way D.J.M. described Bobby leaving him there in the center of the Taj Mahal, after his speech about fairness and wondering what could have been and all that, and I guess the way the words were presented gave me the feeling that Press was starting to feel regret. And so, I think he made a tiny exception for the Travelers and let them have their peace.
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