A/N: this chapter is dedicated to Nyko. I'm sorry you got shot to death man. Tough break. You seemed like a really cool dude.
Also, just assume that all of Nyko and Luna's conversations are in Trigedasleng.
"Acts of Kindness: A random act of kindness, no matter how small, can make a tremendous impact on someone else's life."
― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart
"Don't jump," Nyko muttered in her ear. "These Sky People will race in after you and I do not fancy having to save them from drowning." His mouth twitched so she knew he was teasing her.
Luna rolled her eyes. "I'm not going to jump."
"Yes, but they don't know that. And these clothes become very heavy when wet."
She made a noise of agreement, familiar with that ordeal, and turned to survey the other occupants of the boat.
Her eyes fell on the woman who seemed closest to her in age. The little bird.
Nyko followed her gaze. "That one has a good heart."
Luna turned back to the sea. "You can tell that from one conversation?"
Her own conversation with Raven had not yielded such results, though she could admit that she hadn't been in the best frame of mind to notice their existence.
She had gone after Luna when she was upset. But she strongly suspected that action was entirely self-serving. Raven had been trying to alleviate the damage one of her own people had caused and, thus, prevent her from leaving.
She hadn't said that, of course, but Luna could tell.
She could always tell.
Raven didn't care about her, she cared about her blood. Same as everyone else.
But Nyko disagreed.
"I can tell that from her eyes. They've much to say." He settled closer to Luna, the touch of his shoulder against hers a comfort.
She wasn't convinced. "You've always seen the good in people."
Even when it isn't there.
He grunted. "So have you."
Not always.
She looked down, running a finger over the rail.
"I'm sorry about Artigas. And Lincoln," Luna murmured after the two of them had settled into silence.
It had taken her too long to say this to him. For over a week, they had been in each other's company but she hadn't been able to broach the subject of more death, more loss.
That was a disservice to Nyko, though, to all he had given her.
She owed him her condolences - for as little worth as they possessed - if nothing else.
Nyko's expression fell slightly, but a smile strained his face a moment later. "I will see them again."
The water in his eyes called to her and she blinked, fighting back her own torrent. She had cried every day for over a week. She did not want to cry anymore.
It only left her tired.
And defeated.
Wrung out of everything - good, bad.
Everything.
Likely, she would have much more to cry over in the weeks to come.
But today she would keep herself dry.
Today, she would be okay.
The little bird had ended her vigil, retreating to the other end of the boat, but Luna could still feel the eyes of others on her. She kept them at her back, refusing to turn and face them.
"Do you think I did the right thing with Lincoln?" she asked the question that had haunted her for years, grown sharper and more venomous with his recent passing.
Nyko heaved a long sigh and leaned forward against the railing, his hands clasping together pensively. "I think you did the kindest thing you could. Whether it was right or wrong, I cannot say."
The answer brought her only the barest salve of comfort. She looked out at the sea as if it could provide better. "I suppose it doesn't matter now. He's dead. I didn't want to cause him pain but now..."
Another deep sigh. "I know."
Luna's rational mind urged her to drop the subject but her heart resisted. Her dreams last night still clung to her, the impossible visions she'd seen leaving an ache inside her chest that refused to abate. "Sometimes I think about what could have been, if-"
She stopped, could not complete the sentence, bring the temptation of that unattainable reality into existence.
But Nyko understood. He was the only one alive who still could. "I know."
A bird with four wings flew in the distance; she watched its retreating form with longing. "But we make our choices. And we live with the consequences."
He made a noise of agreement, but. "Your choices have been heavier than most."
Maybe. But that did not exempt her from their consequences.
Luna frowned.
The bird had all but disappeared from view, just a faint dot growing smaller by the moment.
She wondered what it was like to be trapped by nothing, not even the pull of the ground.
Wings were a gift not granted to her people.
"Do you know how he died?" The question had followed her for weeks, ever since she'd learned of his demise. She knew only that the Sky People had been involved but no more than that.
Lincoln.
She had not thought their last moments together were a goodbye.
Nyko's gaze was heavy. "You don't want to hear of it, Luna. It will bring you nothing but more pain."
She frowned and he squeezed her arm. "Remember him in life. Not in death."
But she sighed, turned away, back towards the sea. The only love that hadn't left her. "All I have is death to remember." She closed her eyes. "They're all gone, Nyko. All of them."
He nodded, leaning against the rail and gazing at the sea. "Yes. They are. But their memories are not. Their memories will always be here. That is a gift that will never leave you."
Her face screwed up and she kept her eyes clenched tightly shut, fighting against the sting. "It doesn't feel like a gift."
It never had.
His hand landed on top of hers. Heavy, steadying. "One day it will."
Luna turned away.
She couldn't imagine that being true. The weight of fifty-seven souls resting on her shoulders could never be a gift. The memory of Adria's fingers tracing the indentations of her face so she could better preserve her features - 'I don't want to ever forget you, not like I forgot them' - tangled with the gasping, choked breaths of her final moments as she became limp and still in Luna's arms forever. Derrick holding her against his chest as she fought to steady her breathing in the wake of another nightmare, his hands smoothing back her hair as he murmured the reassuring syllables of her mantra, overshadowed by the resistance of flesh, the crack of bone as she drove the knife into his chest, watched the light fade out of his eyes and wept.
Those were not gifts.
They were hauntings.
"Luna?"
She turned to him in question.
"Do you remember what I told you all those years ago?"
She remembered little of their time together then, the spot a murky haze of darkness in her memory. But this, she did remember. "Nightmares end."
He nodded. "And so will this one."
Perhaps it would. But not in the way Nyko hoped.
Luna couldn't cling to such a promised ending, not like him. Not when she could barely even imagine such a thing.
She could only hope for the least amount of suffering. A little light before the eternal darkness, even. But the salvation he pictured was beyond her comprehension.
She could feel the eyes of the little bird on her again. The mechanic. This was no anomaly. The eyes of everyone were on her, always on her.
It was like being a child again, plagued by the observations of her mentors and attendants. Her blood liked to make her a precious commodity. Luna thought she'd escaped that at thirteen but this year had proved that such an escape was beyond her abilities, beyond the mercy of the universe.
First A.L.I.E.
Now this.
She'd had peace. For a while.
Her mistake had been in believing it could last.
Nothing good ever did.
Luna sighed, leaning over the edge of the boat slightly, her pocket heavy with the memory of what she had recently discarded overboard. It was a loathsome sendoff for those who had been so close to her heart but better than what the ones they'd lost on the journey had received.
She hoped their spirits - if they existed - could forgive her for her failure to give them a proper burial, to return them to the water.
Hoped even more that they could forgive her for failing to save their lives. To keep them safe, the way she had promised all those who sought refuge in Floukru.
Death had entered the doors of her sanctuary the day she opened them to the Sky People and it had not left with their departure. Instead, it had only grown hungrier, devouring all remaining light in the weeks to follow. Now, all that remained was darkness.
Luna had seen many die in her short life but never an entire clan. Never so many in one fell swoop.
And whatever the Sky People achieved with her blood, it could not reverse that devastating act. Nothing could.
Her people were gone.
But she was not.
Perhaps this was retribution for fleeing her Conclave. For thinking that she had that right.
All her childhood, she'd been told horror stories of the things that happened to novitiates who rejected their calling, who turned their back on the Flame. Such a thing had not happened for generations but it was still something feared by the Fleimkepas. So they told stories of the vengeful spirits of the Commanders, enacting punishments on all those who abandoned their duty, their purpose in life.
That Luna's people had been the first victims of Praimfaya, that she was once again made survivor in a sea of death, her blood forcing her onto a path she had no desire to walk. . .
It was hard to think of that as mere coincidence.
Costia would say that she thought too much of her own importance, to think that the spirits or universe would slaughter so many just to punish her. But in Luna's experience, fate was a cruel force, that had no care for casualties in its quest to achieve what it desired most. It could be vindictive, and petty.
There was a whip of wind, harsh tendrils smacking her face, followed by a light spray from the sea. The touch of ice against her skin and the smell of salt calmed her a little and she leant over the edge more.
In the corner of her vision, she saw the little bird stiffen but she had no need to worry. Luna's stomach revolted at the idea of jumping into the waves below. Beside Luna, Nyko showed no noticeable change - he knew her tells too well.
And he trusted her.
He knew she would not leave him here. Outside of her love for him, she still owed him a debt. If following the demands of the Sky People, relinquishing her cursed blood to them for the sake of a cure she did not believe in was what he wanted, then she would give him that.
And. . . she had no desire to be alone at the end of the world. If there was a chance, the slimmest possibility, that the Sky People could succeed and save his life. . .
He was all she had left.
They weren't close. She had only seen him a handful of times in her life. But he was familiar and he cared for her.
The only person left alive who did.
Cure or no cure, she didn't want to lose him until she absolutely had to.
Though, a part of her cringed away from the thought of watching him die in agony, just like all the rest. That part urged her to run, to escape the horrific inevitability whilst she still could.
But she did not want to be alone.
Luna had entered the world, clutching the foot of her brother. For thirteen long years, she had not known the meaning of loneliness, let alone endured it. Her spirit had been entwined with his from birth - until the day she chose to violently sever it.
That was the first time she'd ever tasted loneliness. A dark hole had opened up inside her and she had fallen into it with barely a protest. She could feel herself tracing the edges of that hole now, the darkness drawing all surrounding light into its depths.
She did not want to fall into it again.
So she stayed.
And prayed Nyko was right.
"A kind gesture can reach a wound that only compassion can heal."
― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free
Past
Nyko could confidently say that the very last thing he expected to find when he returned to his tent that night was a soaking wet child, nearly unrecognizable through the thick layer of mud and black ooze that covered her from head to toe.
Quickly, he closed the flap of his tent, hoping that no-one had caught a glimpse of what he had.
The Conclave had been held near his village, though the 'arena' had expanded for miles. Almost all of Trikru had shown up to witness the becoming of their new Commander, as well as members of other clans - shockingly, no fights had broken out over the last nine days between the rivaling factions.
It was the most peaceful he'd seen them in years.
A direct contrast to the bloody battles waging alongside them, the small bodies whose deaths he'd had to confirm in the aftermath.
One body had been missing.
And tongues had been wagging ever since, the scandal of it all rising to fame faster than the name of the new Commander.
Titus was on a warpath and had sent various scouts out to find the traitor and return her for judgment.
The first order of the new commander had been to call off those scouts and whilst, in public, Titus had acquiesced Nyko had caught sight of two of them moving through the area just an hour ago.
The child had been lucky to make it this far without detection.
Now what to do with her?
"Luna?"
Curled into a ball at the far corner of his tent, she jerked at the sound of his voice, retreating.
This would take time.
With one last glance at the closed flap of his tent, he approached.
Slowly.
But not too quietly. He wanted her to hear him, to prepare herself as he drew closer. The child hunched in on herself, hiding her face.
She was a mess.
And even from this distance, he could make out more than a few injuries, though it was impossible to tell whether any of that dark blood was her own.
She was mumbling to herself, too fast for him to catch, jumbled and chaotic. She seemed almost unaware of his presence, lost to the present, but he knew there must still be some rationality existing in her mind, even if it lurked below the surface.
Of all the tents, she had chosen his.
He could not think that a coincidence.
He'd carefully examined each novitiate inside this very tent the day before the first round, determining that they were physically well enough to fight.
To die.
Luna had been silent throughout her entire examination, a resignation to her features as she stared at the wall of his tent.
It was a similar resignation that he witnessed in all the children before he declared them fit and ready.
And beneath that heavy weight of defeat, a fear.
Almost all of them would not live to see his face again. And they knew it.
He had once seen such a look upon his brother, and the expression had haunted him through the years.
He had a feeling this sight before him now would haunt him for many more.
"Have you come for a visit, little moon?"
No answer. She continued to mutter to herself, shaking her head.
Nyko sighed. This was not the usual hurt that he was used to healing.
But he would try.
There was some hope, at least.
Luna must have remembered the directions to his tent, found her way here, somehow, despite the obvious shock and confusion she was in.
"You are looking very cold," he noted casually, reaching for the blanket on his bed and closing the last of the distance between them.
There was no response and carefully, slowly he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. She flinched but did not attempt to dislodge it.
What she really needed was a bath and some attention to those wounds that he was now more clearly beginning to make out. Food. Water.
But he would start with the blanket.
He would start with chasing away the cold.
Her hair was a frenzied, knotted mess, hanging in damp locks, covering her face. Some of it was caked dry with blood and every so often a dark drop would fall and land on the floor, beginning the formation of a black stain.
"Are you thirsty?"
He knew this time not to wait for an answer, removing his waterskin and holding it out to her.
She jerked back, eyes wide.
There was no comprehension there.
He wondered whether she even knew where she was.
Heart heavy, he took a sip of the water himself, slowly, watching as her eyes tracked his movements. Done, he held it out to her once more.
Hesitantly she took it in her shaking hands. But did not drink.
"It's alright. You can rest now. You may drink."
Her hands clenched around the waterskin before she raised it hastily to her lips. It was a frenzied, rushed affair. Much of the water gushed down her chin but she raced to swallow as much as she could, thirsting for more even after the entire thing had been emptied.
He wondered how many days it had been since she'd last touched water to her lips.
He reached for her hand, relieved when she let him take it after no more than a brief jerk back. He pinched the skin there, watching with a frown as it refused to settle back down for some time.
Yes, she was in need of fluids. More than he had available right now. He would have to get Lincoln or Artigas to fetch some water from the river. He could not alert any of the adults to his new house guest but Artigas was quick to obey without question and he trusted Lincoln not to breathe a word to anyone.
But that would have to come later.
He could not leave her alone just yet.
That, right now, was the only thing that was obvious to him. The only course of action that could not be ignored.
He listened closer to her mumbles, hoping he would be able to make something out.
But it remained gibberish.
".IkilldmIkilldm."
He sighed and glanced about his tent for anything that might aid him.
It was then that she raised her face once more from her knees, taking him into her gaze. It took a minute or two for her to focus on him and longer still to decide what to do with his presence.
"Is. . . Is it over?"
Nyko inhaled, needing no explanation to know what it was she referred to. There was only one thing that could fill her mind so at this time.
"Yes, child, it is over."
The words felt like ash on his tongue. The Conclave was indeed over.
But not for her.
Not for one who had fled it. Who hadn't left it one of the only two ways a novitiate could. Victory or death.
She had rejected both paths.
And, in a way, had thrust this Conclave into a sort of immortality. It could not end, not fully, when there was more than one survivor.
It would follow her for the rest of her life. If she lived long enough to have one.
Her face screwed up but she did not cry. There were dried tear tracks on her cheeks, though, cutting a path through the caked blood.
She had cried all her tears before now.
He could not comfort her through them.
"Why did you help me all those years ago?" Luna asked, given up on searching the sky for more hopeful outlines.
It could have cost Nyko his life, and the lives of his family.
Beyond that, his duty had not been to her but to his people - and the Flame that reigned over them.
His aid that day had never made sense to her, no matter how grateful she was for it.
But Nyko's answer was easy, as if she had asked the most simplest of questions in the world. "Because I am a healer. And you needed healing."
She was not satisfied. "My wounds were superficial."
He leveled her with a look. "Those are not the wounds to which I was referring." She dropped her gaze and he sighed, continued. "And because I could not help my brother."
Luna frowned. "He survived his Conclave."
"You know as well as I do that there is little salvation in that."
That was true enough but. . .
"He would have been ashamed of you helping me," she pointed out.
He had been a proud and ruthless commander, his duty forever overruling his heart.
She knew that only too intimately.
He'd died long before her Conclave, when she was still just a young child, but she could remember him well. Her own blossoming ruthlessness had made him fond of her and he had seen to her training personally. But if he had felt a connection to her beyond that, it never showed.
The only person she had ever seen produce some ounce of affection in him was Costia.
But, then, she had that gift.
"Yes." Nyko nodded, not denying it. "But I would have been ashamed of myself if I did not help you."
Personal conscience in the face of society's expectations, rebelling against the established order of right and wrong that you'd heeded all your life. . .
That was something she could understand well.
If it was what had driven Nyko to help her, then yes.
It was simple.
Seeing that understanding on her face, he shifted. "Now I must ask you a question. Why did you choose my tent that day?"
Luna hesitated. She did not entirely remember, herself. Could hardly recall anything of that time. So she could only guess at the reason.
All she knew was that she had to get away. Not necessarily from the Fleimkepas but from the scene of what she had done, from what remained of the being who had once been her brother.
But beneath that urge had been a plea. A desperation.
For comfort.
Her usual sources were no longer available. She could not go to Costia or Lexa.
She could not go to her brother.
Luna could only guess that, in her confusion, something of the memory of Nyko's persistent, unwavering kindness had called to her.
Promised safety.
But she could only guess.
"Because you were always kind to me."
Nyko smiled, his eyes creasing as he reached out and squeezed her hand. "Well, I am glad you came."
Luna's mouth curved slightly.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a dancing spot, shadowing the horizon. The four-winged bird had returned.
"Be the reason someone smiles. Be the reason someone feels loved and believes in the goodness in people."
― Roy T. Bennett, The Light in the Heart
A/N: So this was originally going to be just one chapter but during the process of proofreading I got a stroke of inspiration and it tripled in size. And because proofreading takes me ten times as long as actually writing, I knew that if I didn't split it up I wasn't going to be able to update for a while. So here we are.
That means that the sea mechanic goodness won't be appearing until chapter four. Sorry guys.
Luna's mood and thoughts are pretty melancholic and cynical in these two chapters but I think that's understandable given everything she's recently been through and it fits how she acts in 4.4.
I won't be doing a lot of flashbacks but there are a few that felt important. The ones with Nyko. There's one with Costia a little later on as well as one with Lincoln. And I think I might do one with Adria. Not sure about Lexa.
