Author's Note: As of June 27th, 2016, the entire fanfic has been rewritten. That means this chapter, all that came before it, and all that follow it now contain different content that they did previously. You are strongly encouraged to go back and reread the entire fanfic from the beginning, as the revised continuity may confuse you if you jump in part of the way through.
Fire. There was fire all around him. Marching its way across the continent and into the Valley, burning everything and everyone he loved. And it was his fault. He could feel it, somewhere deep in his soul, as he stood upon the ridge of the Dragon's Stair, looking down upon the destruction he had caused. He had brought it. The Consuming flames were of a single entity, hell bent on burning everything in the Valley, in the world, an all-consuming rage that swallowed his existence. He screamed.
Fone Bone woke with a start, breathing heavily and on the verge of panic. Eventually, he calmed down, and looked around to reassure himself that he wasn't standing in the middle of an inferno. He lived in a fully furnished residence room of the Presidential mansion. The walls were painted a very boring beige color, and the paintings on the wall were only half interesting landscapes, but other than that Fone couldn't find a complaint. He had a comfortable bed, a desk for writing, a kitchen, a bathroom, and even a small living room, complete with couch and TV.
The familiar surroundings put him at ease, but Fone couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen soon. The weird dreams had been getting worse, the fire more potent with each passing night. He never paid much attention to them before he had been to the Valley, but now… He was sure there was more to them than he realized at the time.
He forced himself out of his bed and over to the kitchen, where he began to make breakfast. Biscuits and jam. They reminded him of those cakes Thorn used to make way back when. Thorn… His heart fluttered as he thought back to their time together. Eventually, he shook himself out of his nostalgia, plopped himself on the couch with his food and began to eat. He absentmindedly turned on the television, and was greeted with the RCNN, the Republic Continental News Network.
"…as the third and final installment of the thrilling, breathtaking new fantasy series, "Tales of the Valley: Harvest" is scheduled to hit shelves tomorrow, a thought provoking interview with the author Fone Bone, cousin of President Phoncible P. Bone, went viral over the weekend. Here's a clip of the man himself answering some questions about what took place in his year in the desert with his cousins and what inspired him to write such an amazing work of literature." The feed switched from the news anchor to the fireplace in parlor of the presidential mansion, where Fone had conducted the interview the week prior. He sat on one side, and his interviewer, a sharply dressed young woman sat on the other.
"So, Mr. Fone." His interviewer began. "There have been a number of critics of your books who take issue with the main character, Thorn. Some don't understand the point of having an empowering human main character, given the audience you're writing for, and others consider it outright offensive to write a book from the perspective of a human at all, considering the history between our two species. Who would you respond to those statements?"
"Well." The Fone on screen began speaking. "I don't really consider our past history with humans much of a hot button topic. We, as a country, are uniquely isolated from outside conflict. I believe this leads to the unnecessary, sometimes outright obsessive degree to which some Bones obsess over past conflicts. The supposed conflict we have with humans is particular enticing to these people, and they tend to lash out at anything human related they see around them. My books aren't supporting some sort of "Humanist agenda". I'm simply trying to tell the stories I have in me to tell, and due to the nature of those stories, some people will take issue with them. I've accepted that fact and moved on, but I don't think the opinions of an extremely vocal minority should influence my creative process."
Fone turned the television off and put his dishes up as his thoughts began to wander again. That interview had been… interesting. He had to make up every single word because people had to believe that the valley didn't exist. It was bad enough that a member of the "House of Bone" was president again, but if the radicals up north found out humans still lived in this half of the world they would go ballistic. Not to mention the fact that the last time they had tried to convince anyone the Valley existed, they were laughed out of the offices of the Boneville Explorer's Society, an organization their parents all used to work for, and only a scant few bones actually believed them. Those bones were Norman, Emmy, and Percival, who had all disappeared years ago trying to find the Valley.
Writing of his adventures as fiction books seemed like the only thing he had left to do with his time anymore. When they got back Fone Bone had to first convince the townspeople not to kill Phoney. He eventually succeeded, and they were welcomed back into the town with open arms, and a few eggs. After they got settled again, Phoney reached out to one of his old business partners and got himself back into the export and manufacturing business. But this time he did it to help people instead of horde money for himself. The year in the valley and the trip back really changed him. He helped countless families across the nation out of poverty, was serving as a senator before the year was out, and was eventually elected president. After that, the four of them, Bartleby included, moved to Argus City, the capital of the nation. Now Fone Bone just lived in the presidential mansion with Phoney, Smiley and Bartleby, writing his books, staying out of world affairs, and thinking more and more about Thorn.
Every day he missed her more, and slowly began to realize that although he loved his cousins, he didn't feel he belonged with them anymore. For the past twenty years, with the exception of their excursion into the valley, all he had done was help his cousins out of tight situations. And since Phoney had finally put himself on the straight and narrow, Fone slowly felt it was time to move on. He felt he left some part of himself back in the valley, and needed to return there to be whole again.
Finally, after much internal debate, he came to terms with his need to return. That morning, after he finished his breakfast, he packed his backpack with a few personal items, among them Thorn's map and his hardback copy of Moby Dick. And slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he walked out of his room, his heart jumping with anticipation. He was going back to the Valley. He would probably have to walk there, but he didn't really care. He would go back. It was where he belonged.
Phoney stared down at the suit he wore, which he found immensely restricting compared to his usual black t-shirt, and the tie around his neck, which he had chosen to have emblazoned with a golden star, and contemplated the whirlwind that had been his life. As he did so, he stood at the head of a large oblong table, while his various military and foreign policy advisors sat around it equally lost in though. They were all, including Phoney, staring at the documents in front of them: maps of the focal points of growing dissent, known and estimated terrorist cell locations, intercepted communications between Glaian and a ring of spies he had somewhere in Argus City, memos on the estimated change in Phoney's public approval rating depending on how the situation resolved, and even charts and figures of various projected casualties, military and civilian, if the situation escalated into war. He was hoping it didn't have to come to that, but he was running out of options. He started to consider possible solutions, and became lost in the tactical labyrinth that had consumed the last year of his life.
"Mr. President." He heard a voice, though it sounded too far away for him to match it with a specific person or place. "Mr. President!" Phoney snapped back into reality. His Secretary of State was trying to get his attention.
"I apologize, Secretary Deyavara. I lost my train of though. As I was saying, Glaian is a man of the people. Every time he hacks into the airways to broadcast another one of his "live speeches" the masses eat it up. His public approval soars more every day. Assassinating him will only make him a martyr, and stomping him now with a show of force with only create more reasons for them to hate us and more problems twenty or thirty years from now when someone else figures out how to aim their rage like he can. We have to disarm him, show the people that he isn't who he claims. Expose him for the madman he really is. We can't make him a messiah to these people, we have to make him a demon."
"And how do you propose we do that." Asked Secretary of State Daniel Deyavara. Like everyone else in the room save for Phoney himself, he was in his mid-sixties, and had seen more than his fair share of conflict decades ago, the last time anti-"House of Bone" terrorism was on the rise. He wanted to do whatever he could to prevent that from happening again.
"I don't know exactly how yet. That's why I called this meeting. I wanted all of your opinions on this subject before we start to construct a plan to deal with this threat. Now, unfortunately Secretary Freeman couldn't make it, but he did have General Victor and the rest of the Joint Chiefs draw up some preliminary-" There was a knock on the door, and the entire room fell silent. One of the secret service officers guarding the room opened it a crack to see who it was.
"It's your cousin, sir." The officer said. Phoney sighed.
"I apologize gentlemen, but I suppose I should go see what he wants. The General can present his ideas while I deal with this… whatever it is." Phoney said. He got up from his chair and stepped outside to greet his cousin, who was standing in the hallway with his backpack that he brought to the Valley packed up. "Where are you going?" Phoney asked him, though he already knew the answer.
"Back." Fone Bone replied.
"Back? Why would you go back to the Valley?" He said in a hushed tone as he closed the door behind him.
"You know why."
"It's her isn't it? What is with you! I told you to forget about her. We have a good life here. I'm doing good work for once and your entertaining millions of fans. What do you need her for?"
"Five years we've been back, and for all you've done you haven't changed a bit. It's still all about materials for you. Now instead of how much money you make, it's how many people you help. You still go about accomplishing everything with a disturbing level of emotional detachment."
"Where's this coming from? I'm trying to do good work, I thought that's what you wanted?"
"You are doing good work, but you haven't matured. You haven't grown as a person, really. You've always felt that you know what's best for me, despite not nothing anything about why I do what I do, and that hasn't changed."
"I haven't grown? Look at you chasing a pipe dream. Even if you went back, it's been five years. Who's to say she isn't already married with kids by now? You're twenty seven, you need to start thinking about the future, not fantasizing about some past crush."
"It's more than just that. I love her, it's that I don't belong here anymore. I finished my books, now I don't have anything keeping me here anymore."
"What about us? Me and Smiley and Bart? We're still here!"
"Phoney, since I could walk I've done nothing but pull your ass out of harm's way, so now that you've moved on and gone honest, I have nothing keeping me here. I have no purpose. I love you guys, but being in the Valley gave me a sense of being, a sense of belonging. I have to go back. I don't expect you to understand why I'm going, but I need you to respect the fact that I am, and you can't stop me."
"Fine. I guess I can't sway you. But don't come crying to me when your precious Thorn is in the arms of another man." Phoney began to leave. But before he opened the door again, he sighed and turned back to face Fone. "That being said, I don't want you to die out there. Talk to Archibald. I'm sure he can fix you up with something."
"Thanks Phoney. I knew you'd come around eventually. I guess this is goodbye."
"Goodbye Fone. Safe travels." Fone Bone turned around and headed down to the workshop to get a car from Archibald, while Phoney reached for the door again. Before he could open it, he was interrupted again. This time, his phone began vibrating. He looked around to make sure no one was listening in, then he took his phone out and answered the call.
"Silas, this isn't a good time. I'm in the middle of a meeting with my advisors." Phoney whispered. On the other end of the line was Silas Cohen, Phoney's old business partner and mentor.
"Oh come on, Phoney. Don't be like that. I just called to tell you I finished securing your re-election campaign funds, for when you need them."
"Good." Phoney responded curtly, attempting to end the conversation and get back to his meeting.
"So does this make us even for the prune tarts?" Silas asked innocently. Involuntarily, Phoney cracked a smile. Silas was the one who had found him the deal on prune tarts for his mayoral campaign announcement six years ago.
"Maybe. But you still owe me for the faulty campaign balloon. That thing caused me more grief than you could possibly imagine. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a government to run. We can speak later." Without another word, Phoney hung up the phone and went back inside the war room. He returned to his seat and addressed his advisors.
"I trust you have all been made aware of our options. Now we have to narrow those down to only the slightly bad ones." As he settled in for the meeting, he had a feeling there wasn't going to be an easy solution. Or a quick one.
Glaian Nagratek, The All-Consuming, Last of the Nagrateks, and leader of the purported uprising, sat on a cot in the private chambers of his mountain fortress, rubbing the small, jagged X shaped scar on his forehead and looking at the cover of a book that had recently been brought to his attention. The room itself was plain, almost ascetic in its lack of decoration or detail of any kind. The walls were stone. He slept on a cot to prove he wasn't above the struggles of any of his men, and the only other furniture in the room was a wooden trunk his father had left him. As he sat on the edge of the cot, he looked at the book he held in his hands.
"Tales of the Valley. What a bunch of humanist drivel." He muttered to himself. He cast the book aside. Internally though, he knew that if there was even the slightest chance that humans were still left on the continent, it could whip his troops into a frenzy. And perhaps they would be bold enough to attack those pigs in the capital. He silently thanked this Fone Bone. Whoever he was, he had given Glaian the tool he needed to galvanize his forces.
He stood from his cot and walked over to the trunk. He opened it, and pulled from within a purple and red hooded cloak. He drew the hood over his head, the large eye emblazoned on the front overlapping with his scar. As he wore the cloak, he thought back to his father.
"Almost there, old man." He muttered to himself. "Soon, everything will be in place, and our Lord's vision will come to pass." After he had readied himself, he opened the door to his chambers and walked through the stone hallways of his base of operations. Eventually, he reached a large set of wooden double doors. He pushed them open and addressed the army amassed in the courtyard before him.
"Brethren, I stand before you today to bring you news of our ongoing struggle. It seems the humans have yet to be driven from our shores as completely as the government claims. Let me peel back their lies for you, and expose the ugly truth the House of Bone has kept just under the surface…" As he spoke he could feel the crowd's anger growing. He smiled. He felt the coming days were going to be a very, very busy time indeed. This war was just beginning.