Hey droplets! Here's the next chapter, a bit shorter than the last one. Let's see how the coven is dealing with the latest and final tragedy...Review please! They're all awesome and I thank each and every one!

~Droplets to all, Cel Rainstorm

Chapter Twenty-Six: Burning Embers

There was nothing but blackness. She could never tell if it was a minute or millennia that she was trapped in this world where war was fable and pain was a myth. This was the world where dreams existed, the deepest world she could have fallen to. 7 felt lost in this dark world.

Many times, over and over, she kept dreaming that 9 was walking up to her. He was smiling her favorite crooked smile, arms outstretched. He was unharmed and alive. 7 would run towards him, relieved that he was still here with her. She would wrap her arms around him while he would quietly tell her that everything was fine and not to be afraid. Then, when 7 would look up at him, there would be nothing. She was hugging empty air. He hadn't come back to her. He was really gone.

7 suddenly snapped back into reality. She was immediately aware of an aching, burning pain coursing through her body. The female stitchpunk stared upwards for a moment at a familiar ceiling before closing her eyes once more, breathing heavily. She tried to gain her bearings as she calmed down, the ache in her body quieting. 7 then rolled over slowly and struggled to sit up. Looking around, she realized that she was lying in some sort of makeshift gurney, on top of a soft flannel sheet someone had graciously folded and tied to the wooden bed. She was covered in a ripped piece of soft grey fabric.

She sighed softly, rubbing her pounding head. 7 then slowly lowered her hand to look at her burned arm. It was completely cleaned and healed, with only a grey scar now to show for her injury. Great. Another scar. 7 sighed again, dropping her arm and looking up. She was in the room where the stitchpunks had slept the night before they had defeated the Machines. 7 blinked, suddenly realizing that there were no longer any Machines. They had won the war and were finally safe in the world. As she realized this, 7 also realized the price they had to pay for their freedom. It had taken him away.

A sudden wave of devastating grief crashed over her. 7 bent her head, unable to wrap her mind around what had happened. They had been so close to winning the war, making it through together until at the last moment, the Machine had taken one final life, one final victory. 7 swung her legs over the edge of the bed, her feet making a small click noise as they touched the wooden floor. 7 slowly got to her feet, making sure she had her balance, and took a hesitant step. She didn't collapse or sway, which were both good signs.

7 then walked out of the room into the drawing room, looking around. All was silent and she saw no one else. Wondering where the other stitchpunks were, 7 suddenly stopped walking as she looked upon the large window set in the corner of the drawing room overlooking the courtyard. Two ragdolls were silhouetted against the early grey light shining through the window. They were bent over the dark shape of another makeshift gurney. 7 blinked, realizing who was lying on the cot. She walked forward, approaching the window.

2 was sitting beside the cot, his head in his hands. He looked older than ever, his frail, tired body bent over. 5 was standing, bending over the limp, lifeless figure on the bed. He was tenderly cleaning the mud and dirt off 9's broken body. He was using a damp, soft cloth to clean 9's optics. His eyes remained closed, as if he was sleeping. 5 brought the cloth carefully over the cracked glass of 9's right optic. He looked absolutely miserable as he cleaned his best friend's empty form. The grief hung heavily in the air as the two looked over the body of the young stitchpunk.

"7," 2 spoke quietly, looking up. He must have heard 7's footsteps as she approached. 5 looked up as well, withdrawing from 9. He and 7 shared a glance, each reading the grief in the other's faces. 5 took a few steps away, allowing her space to come to 9. 7 then looked away and walked forward, sitting on one of the bobbins they had been using for chairs as she looked over the limp form of 9.

5 had held 9 for a while until 2 had finished putting together a small gurney for the poor stitchpunk. 5 had gently set him down on his back and hadn't left his side since. 9's hands were resting on his chest, completely still. His injured side was still wrinkled, indicating his broken ribs. The hole in his chest had been sown shut with a silvery grey thread. 7 looked over 9 quietly, reaching forward and wrapping her fingers around one of his hands. She held it tightly, covering it with both of her own. 7 wished with her entire being that he could hold her hand back but she knew he couldn't and never would again. His body was very cold and it chilled 7's entire arm. She didn't move away, however. Instead, she bent over and rested her forehead against his. Her optics clanked lightly against his, her heart broken. 9…her 9 was dead.

"Dear 7. My dear girl. It's alright. It's going to be alright." 2 consoled her, sitting beside her and rubbing her back soothingly. 5 stood beside him, watching 7 bend over 9 miserably. 2 continued to rub her back, speaking softly. "I know you miss him. It's alright." 7's eyes then opened and she sat up. 2's words echoed in her mind as she realized that, for once in his life, the old inventor was wrong. Gently setting 9's hand down onto his chest, 7 stood and turned away from him, walking away briskly. She had one, only one, mission now. She wouldn't let anything stop her. 2 suddenly realized that 7 was walking towards the front door down the hallway.

"Wait, 7!" 2 called after her as he grabbed his cane, struggled to his feet and hobbled after her. She paused and looked over her shoulder at 2 just as 1 appeared by her side. He looked fatigued and careworn, looking older than he ever had before. Alerted by all the noise, the oldest stitchpunk looked down at the young woman in curiosity.

"What is she doing?" 1 asked 2 snappishly as the second elder took 7's hand, holding tightly and looking up at her in anxious confusion.

"She's trying to leave!" 2 cried, glancing at 1, then back at 7, his gentle metal fingers tightening around hers.

"2, he's trapped. I'm not going to let him sit there in that talisman forever. I have to free him." 7 said flatly, pulling her hand out of 2's grasp.

"No! 7, you're still weak, you can't. Please, my dear…I don't want to see you hurt again." 2 said softly, imploring her.

"7, his soul is gone. The talisman is destroyed, his soul along with it. I'm sorry." 1 said softly, a tone she had never heard from 1. 7 tore her gaze from 2 to 1, her brows furrowed.

"1, I'm going. He can't be gone, he's trapped. Just like you two were." She said to the two elders, undaunted in her mission.

"7, you're our covens protector. You cannot go out in this weakened state. I know 9 was right, and I'm sorry for doubting him. I will forever, deeply regret being the man I was to him. But it would be a waste of time, and you cannot get anymore hurt than you currently are. 7…9 is gone." 1 contradicted, his grizzled old voice increasing in strength, although there was a hint of great remorse within it. 7 froze. She had once said that saving them, the ones that had died was a waste of time. And yet he had risked it all to save them from the World Between. She would never forget the grief and relief 9 had felt in his ordeal.

"He's worth it. He came after you, and you're all alive. I tried to stop him, but he went anyway. I said things that really hurt him. But look at you now. You all got your second chance. He made sure you weren't trapped. I'm doing the same for him. He isn't gone. I know you're wrong. I'm going to free him." She said, turning away, slowly walking away once more. The two elders watched as she walked away in silence. 2 looked at the young woman with soft, understanding golden eyes, knowing what she truly felt inside.

"You loved him." 2 murmured gently, realization dawning upon his face. Within the statement, there was no question. It was understanding and knowing. 1's gaze shot up to 7 in disbelief. 7 blinked, her eyes still fixed intently on the dead world ahead. She bit her lower lip, her hands curling into fists. The statement tore at her heart, at her very soul. In those moments, she realized that 2 had spoken nothing but the truth. She finally allowed herself to believe it, to accept it. She had fallen in love with 9.

"Yes, 2." She murmured. "I do." 7 then sprinted forward, through the small hole in the huge wooden door and into the cold, grey morning. 1 and 2 watched her as she disappeared into the eerie mist. 1 shook his head sadly as 2 watched as 7 disappeared anxiously. 5 had stayed next to the window, watching the entire thing. His heart fell as 7 admitted her love for the dead stitchpunk he sat beside. 5 had known all along and now 9 had died without ever hearing 7 say those words to him. 5 knew that his best friend would have been nothing but ecstatic that his feelings were reciprocated. Reaching down, 5 lay his hand on top of 9's own, holding it gently. He sighed, hoping with all his heart that 7 could find the talisman and bring it back so they could finally let 9 go.

7 sprinted through the mists, never once stopping. She easily retraced her coven's steps to the rocky, dead forest. Her aching joints pleaded for relief but she ignored the pain. She passed the Citadel and headed down into the dead grass, all completely limp from the rain and mist weighting it down. Navigating her way through the rocks, 7 finally made it into the field that marked the ends of the Emptiness and the entrance to the Barrens. It was devastated. There were several interlocking bands of black ash from the oil fire 9 had started that terrible night. Damp grey cinders covered everything, every last blade of grass. Through the light drizzle and heavy mist, 7 finally saw it.

The body of the Fabrication Machine was burned beyond recognition. It was lying silently and desolately in the vestiges of the embers, like a large iron mountain. The fire and the explosion from the orb had mutilated and melted the iron body, curling huge bands of metal, snapping each delicate wire and completely destroying the central system the Scientist had created. It was covered in ashes and dew, spindly arms sprawled out around it. As 7 walked around it slowly, she couldn't figure out how she felt about the dead monster. It had taken 9 away from her. It left her heart in shambles, her coven in ruins.

7 looked away from the Machine. She had no reason to fear it any longer. It was never coming back now. She knew that the talisman must have been nearby, where she had found 9's body. 7 looked under each rock, behind every blade of grass. She knew it had to be somewhere nearby. Suddenly, something glinted out of the corner of her eye. Whirling around, 7 managed to spot the familiar metallic surface, blending easily with the dull colors of the burnt field. She ran to the glint, her heart pounding in relief. As she came up to the small metal object, hidden in the remaining grass, she sank to her knees weakly.

The talisman was covered in ashes and dew, streaked with burns and scratches. 7 gingerly picked it up, running her fingers over the engraved plates. The scraping noise seemed as loud as a thunderclap in the silence. Grief thoroughly overwhelmed 7 as she stared at the object now containing 9's soul. She held the talisman to her heart, both hands covering it, protecting it. Her lower lip trembled as she sat there in the ashes, holding the one she loved close to her broken heart.

"9, I'm here. It's me, it's 7. I promise I'll get you out, just hold on a bit longer. I promise." She whispered to the talisman, wishing that he could hear her. Her lips brushed the top of the talisman as she bent over it, weeping softly. Alone in the Barrens, nobody could hear her. She wished with her entire being that he knew his 7 was there, that she had come to free him. Her emotional shield was completely gone and she allowed herself to cry for just a few moments before she realized she could sit here no longer. 2 was right – she was extremely weak. She needed to go home. Holding the talisman closer still to her chest, she got to her feet and without a second glance at the body of the Machine, she ran towards the resting home. In her mission to get home, 7 was oblivious to the feeble, fleeting glow of the talisman symbols.

He knew she was there.