They find him.
They find him bloody and bruised, crying over his brother's corpse.
Boney is the first to move, lapping at his owner and friend's face with a tongue that's tasted blood far too many times, then Duster drapes an arm over his shoulder, careful not to disturb the blonde's wounds. Kumatora is rough and brash, but this time, she is gentle as she pats singed hair, keeping a toothy grin on her face to encourage the young boy.
(he's still a boy, still a child, and no child should ever have to go through this)
They call out to him, encouragement and praise flowing into a white noise that never reaches Lucas' ears, his eyes still watery, his mouth still gaping, his breath still erratic and rough and more than anything, he wants to run.
Away from the reality where his brother and his mother are dead. Away from the world where everything he has ever known was destroyed and flipped upside down. Away from all the heartache and sorrow he felt in three long, agonizing years.
Duster is the one to say the words that tug him back, keep Lucas chained and aching in this reality, in this world.
No crying until the end.
Although they're so close, although they came so far, although they traveled over hills and under seas and through forests, they're not done with their quest yet.
The end, the final needle, is literally footsteps away, and Lucas mechanically moves towards it, preparing to pull it like he had done to the others.
And then, the world is blank.
They find them, in the world the Dragon created.
Orange hair and bright green eyes, filled with mischief and energy, untouched by metal and machinery.
Soft brown hair and a scarlet dress, without a single rip.
They hold each other, the companions Lucas had found on his journey and the family he had lost, and Lucas finds himself crying.
(you've always been the crybaby haven't you lucas? don't cry. mother is here now.)
Holding a hand that used to be made of metal, Lucas was dragged by his twin towards their home, his friends and parents following after.
There's a lot to catch up on, after all.
(it's called moving on for a reason. go on. run around in this world made from your wish, where the source of your pain never existed. )