November 1, 1997
5:54 p.m.
Castle Wyvern
The next night after awakening, Goliath and Angela waited for Demona to arrive with the clan's remains. It had been a whirlwind preparing for the ceremony. Coldstone and Coldfire had finally woken up from their charging sometime early in the morning before the rest of the gargoyles had turned to stone for the day, and the clan had to spend time explaining everything that had happened. The pair expressed remorse that they had missed out on the battle, that they could have possibly stopped Mab from escaping, but Mab had clearly planned for many contingencies, and was likely the reason why they had been unplugged. But, despite all her machinations, Mab's underestimation of the resourcefulness of the clan and Fox's powers had nearly been her downfall.
When Goliath brought up their plans for a wind ceremony for their clan's deceased, Coldstone and Coldfire had seemed uneasy about the prospect, and it took Goliath a while to realize that if not for Xanatos and Demona, his rookery brother and sister would still be counted amongst the dead, and likely would have fought against them earlier in the night. Goliath also suspected that they both felt some resentment about not having a wind ceremony performed for them in the first place, and he certainly couldn't blame them. He deeply regretted that himself.
"There she is," Angela said as she spotted the silhouette of Demona in the sky. Goliath narrowed his eyes as he finally saw what she had, and soon Demona landed in the courtyard, a large box gripped tightly in her talons. Goliath had almost doubted she would come, but to his surprise, she had made good on her word.
"Thank you for your help, mother," Angela said as Demona handed the large black box over to Goliath. It was simple but elegant, fitting the solemn occasion.
"Anything for you, my child," Demona said as she embraced her daughter. Angela's back was to Goliath, and Demona looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a smug smile.
Goliath scowled back at her and folded his arms across his chest.
When the embrace had ended, Goliath handed the box to Angela. "Why don't you take them inside," he said. She hesitantly agreed, knowing her mother and father, who despised each other, would be left on the battlements alone.
The former couple stared contemptuously at each other for a long moment. Until last night, the last time they had met, Demona had dealt Goliath a rather humiliating blow, and he felt a phantom ache in his groin and lower abdomen just from looking at her, but tonight was a night for peace and protocols, not animosity.
"I appreciate your aid in this," Goliath said reluctantly. Demona didn't respond immediately. She just stood silently, the wind ruffling her vivid red hair.
"I didn't do it for you," she eventually replied.
"Of course not," Goliath said bitterly. "Will you be staying? You know the customs. You have your right to speak in memoriam."
"I think not," she said spitefully. "You can perform the ceremony and assuage your own guilt, but until the humans pay for what they have done to our clan, to our kind, I will not have peace."
Demona turned her back on him then and leapt off the castle wall, returning to whence she came. After she left, Angela walked back out of the castle and stood next to her father.
"She would not stay," Goliath said as he stared out at Demona's retreating form in the distance.
"I know. I heard her," Angela replied, no surprise in her voice, just resignation.
Goliath took in a deep breath and let it out, shaking off his anger and resentment, letting only his sorrow remain. Silently, father and daughter walked into the castle together.
...
...
After Coldfire somewhat reluctantly prepared the clan for what was expected during the Wind Ceremony, Goliath took the box of remains out onto the battlements alone as he desired a few moments of contemplation before the ceremony. It was customary to use the highest point available for the ceremony, but the tower was out of commission as it awaited repairs, so the battlements were the next best option.
He put his hand on the box, caressing it lightly, and let out a slow, shaky breath as he relived painful memories. His clan had been through so much unspeakable tragedy. Even before the massacre. It was a large part of why they had allied with humans in the first place. To hopefully lessen their losses.
Instead, they had found ruin.
A gust of wind kicked up and ruffled his hair, almost like someone was running their hands through it, but he was too lost in his grief and regret to notice.
"I am sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with remorse.
He couldn't help but see the accusing looks on his lost clan's faces. The hatred, disappointment, and loathing as they had looked upon him the previous night in their ethereal forms.
He had failed them, and his heart ached and burned with anguish over his failures. He wanted to shout his agony to the sky, to rage, to take the overwhelming grief that burned inside him, and manifest it somehow. Like a lump of coal that he could break between his bare hands. But before he succumbed to his grief, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned his head sharply to the side, catching sight of a familiar silhouette. Even without seeing her, he knew her by her footfalls alone.
"You should be home resting," he admonished his mate.
Angela had warned Elisa before she spoke to Goliath that his mood was poor. So, Elisa wasn't surprised by the testy reception.
"I'm a member of this clan, am I not?" she reminded him as she came to stand beside him.
Goliath didn't say anything. He wanted her to heal, but her presence was an instant balm to his emotional wounds, and he put his arm around her waist. His hand came to rest lightly on her hip, and she put her arm around his. As much as he wanted her to stay home and recover, he was glad she was there to support them. To support him. The grief was bearable when she was by his side.
"Are you ready for this?" she asked softly.
"No," he answered honestly.
"It's time though," she said gently.
He didn't say anything.
"You need to let go," she urged.
"I know," he said, pained. "But how do I let them go, Elisa?"
"I didn't mean them."
Goliath was quiet, and she could feel the guilt and self-loathing coming off of him like heat waves on hot pavement. She gave him the time he needed to grapple with it, and after several seconds had passed he finally spoke, his voice breaking.
"I don't think I can."
"It wasn't your fault," Elisa reminded him.
Goliath shook his head.
"I made so many mistakes, Elisa," he lamented.
"You made the best choices you could with the information you had at the time. That's all anyone can do. You're not a comic book superhero who can prevent any conceivable disaster, Goliath."
The large gargoyle stood stubbornly silent.
"Look at me," Elisa commanded, and when he refused, she put her hands on his face and forced him.
She could see the parts of him that were broken. The parts that still wept and bled. But just as he had held her together last night, so she would hold him together tonight. And they would reckon with their inner demons together.
"Think of them," she said, gesturing in the general direction of the Manhattan clan. "No one is blaming you for what happened, Goliath," she said firmly.
"I blame myself," he growled.
Elisa searched his eyes, her heart shattering from the pain she saw. If she were in his shoes she would feel the same, she knew that. Despite how irrational it was, she understood.
"That's your ego talking. If Hudson had been leader, would you blame him if he made the same choices?"
Goliath looked angrily at her because he knew what she was doing. And he knew that she was right.
"No. Of course not," he relented stubbornly.
"Do you remember what you told me about honoring your clan? That by living and embracing life, you honor their memory," Elisa reminded him. "Self-flagellation isn't embracing life, Goliath."
The large gargoyle looked like he wanted to tear the castle down with his bare hands, but then his whole countenance crumpled as his misplaced anger deflated.
"You are right," he sighed. "As always."
"No, not always," Elisa corrected him. "But I am right in this moment, and uh, anytime we're arguing of course."
Goliath laughed softly at that, despite himself, and the act of laughing, releasing that tension, cut through his anguish, his anger, and his resentment.
He put his hand over one of Elisa's and turned his face to kiss her palm.
"Thank you. I was… how do you put it? Spiraling?"
"I knew you would, which is why I needed to be here," Elisa said softly. "Even though the laser burn on my chest hurts like hell."
"After this I am going to ensure that you rest and take care of yourself," Goliath said, chastising her lightly.
"Only if you promise to rub burn cream on my chest later," she said coquettishly.
Goliath laughed in shock, surprised by her flirtation.
"You are—" he started then stopped as she grinned at him, "trying to distract me and cheer me up, I see."
He leaned down and kissed her softly, and she gave his hair a comforting caress.
"I think I can do this now," he said solemnly. "We should go get the others."
...
...
As the clan gathered on the battlements, Goliath stood next to the box that contained the remains of their deceased. He turned and looked at the faces of his clan, those who survived—the trio, Hudson, and Bronx, those who hadn't but were miraculously reborn—Coldstone and Coldfire, and those who were new—Katana, Nashville, Fu-Dog, and lastly his mate—Elisa.
"It is hard to know what to say for something like this, or how to properly say goodbye," Goliath said solemnly. "It has been over a thousand years since we lost our clan, though to us, it only feels like three. A millennium is a relatively short time in the history of the world, but I doubt even a thousand years would be enough to assuage our grief or erase our loved ones from our memories, from our hearts."
Goliath paused and looked his clan in the eye again, taking a moment before he said what he needed to.
"I have held tightly onto the memory of that night, of my guilt, as if holding onto it would keep their memory alive, but as someone recently reminded me," his eyes slid over to Elisa and he gave her a soft smile, "that is not the way to remember them, not by revisiting that nightmare, but by living, by embracing life, by embracing all its highs and lows, its joys and sorrows, by taking chances even if it means losing at times."
Lexington wrapped his arms around himself at that. He didn't think Goliath knew about his conversation with Amp, but it felt like he had spoken directly to him.
"That's how we remember them. That's how we honor them," Goliath continued. "I don't know if they can hear me, but if they can, I hope they can forgive me for my failures. And I vow that I will do my utmost to honor them the remainder of my days."
He set his hand reverently on the box and then stepped away.
"It is customary to allow anyone time to speak who wishes to," Goliath said, his voice rough with emotion.
"I think ye summed it up quite well, lad," Hudson said gently.
There was a chorus of words in agreement.
Goliath nodded succinctly.
"Then, if we wish to proceed… sister, would you do the honors?"
Coldfire reluctantly stepped forward. She had agreed to do this, reassuring her brother that she could do this. As their clan's priestess, it was her duty. She had performed countless Wind Ceremonies before… but never had it felt so personal.
She lifted the lid off the box and gently set it aside. She gazed at the mix of pulverized stone remains inside and wondered morosely if any of it had come from parts of her former body. And she realized that this ceremony wasn't just putting their clan to rest, it was a farewell to her life, the life that she had once known. She was no longer flesh and blood, she was steel and wires. If she could cry, she would have wept and grieved her losses. Instead she felt cold and unfeeling, unable to feel warmth and pleasure, or anything close to real grief. She felt the loss in her soul, but she could not physically mourn it.
Her mate came alongside her and put a hand on her shoulder, offering her his strength and stoicism. The one thing that got her through was his love. They had been together in life and death and now again in this new revenant half-life. But would they ever face oblivion once more? If their mechanical bodies could be continuously repaired, would they ever have a natural end? Would they outlive everyone gathered here?
Coldfire glanced up at her mate. Whatever the future held, no matter the uncertainty there, they would face it together. And she hoped, that whatever the clan's future was, the generations to come, they would be there to oversee, guide, and protect them.
She screwed up her courage and put a hand into the box, withdrawing a handful of dust that glittered softly in the light of the stars. Then she held her hand up, allowing the wind to carry off the pulverized stone remains into the air, grain by grain.
"Ashes to ashes, or dust to dust," she said reverently. "All are one with the wind."
Then, hand in hand with her mate, she leapt off the castle wall and burned her thrusters to fly and swoop amongst the dust, letting it coat the gleaming, golden surface of what was now her body.
The others followed in kind, one by one. Hudson and Bronx, then Brooklyn and Fu-Dog. Katana placed her hands firmly at her sides and bowed low to the box before taking a handful herself. Nashville followed suit. Then Broadway and Angela, then Lexington, until only Goliath and Elisa remained. He watched the others, feeling momentarily overcome by his emotions. Then he felt Elisa's cool hand in his, and he held onto it tightly. After a moment he was able to compose himself, and he stepped forward to join his clan in the ceremony.
He stepped forward with Elisa and took a handful of dust, and likewise she took a handful herself. He held his hand up, and she did too, both repeating the words Coldfire had spoken, and let the dust lift up into the wind. Then Goliath picked up the box and gently shook the rest of the remains out. The dust caught the breeze and formed a great plume,shimmering as it drifted off into the sky, merging with the airborne clan as well as the stars above.
He scooped his mate up in his arms and cradled her lovingly as he dove off the side of the castle, gliding reverently along with the other gargoyles as they became one with their deceased, one with their grief, and said one final goodbye to their lost mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters, sons and daughters.
From the penumbra of an open doorway, Owen stood and quietly watching the clan as they moved about in the ether. After a long moment, he turned his head to look behind him, sensing the change. The shadows that had hung about the castle since it had been moved above the Eyrie building slowly faded and then disappeared altogether.
He took in a deep breath, feeling a lightness in his chest that hadn't been there before, as if the castle had breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then he nodded once, and went back inside.
But Owen wasn't the only one who observed the ceremony. From a distant rooftop, Demona lurked in the shadows as her clan bade farewell to their dead. She watched as they swooped and dove, spiraled and banked, forming a kaleidoscope of dark shapes that occasionally obscured the crescent moon and stars. She even remained on her ledge long after the Wind Ceremony had ended and the clan had all gone back inside, as if frozen in place.
Finally, she stirred. In the silence just before the dawn, she reached into a pouch at her side and pulled out a fistful of dust all her own. She brought the fist out in front of her, then loosened her grip, letting the dust cascade through her fingers like a series of waterfalls that floated and fluttered away on the breeze.
Rather than unfurling her wings and diving into the night sky to dance with the dust as the clan had done, she simply pulled her wings more tightly around herself. But her shroud wasn't meant to stave off the autumnal chill. Instead, she used it to wrap herself in her own feelings. Her own personal, physical manifestation of her anger, despair, emptiness, and that terrible, gnawing loneliness.
As the dust scattered and disappeared, a single, solitary tear slid down her cheek, gleaming in the starlight.
...
...
Covered head to toe in a fine layer of dust, the clan stood around the fire in the Great Hall, speaking softly with each other. Apologies for months of poor behavior were offered and accepted, hurt was assuaged, and mistakes and animosities forgiven and made right. Especially to Lexington, who had been unfairly singled out and made a suspect.
Brooklyn and Broadway stood huddled with their smaller brother, talking and joking like old times. Lexington spoke animatedly about some new tech project he was working on, and they listened with genuine interest.
While the guys boisterously talked and laughed, Angela and Katana spoke softly with each other as well, exchanging genuine smiles and gentle laughter. Katana let Angela hold the egg, and they mused excitedly about the baby gargoyle's impending hatching and eventual Naming Ceremony, as was customary in Katana's clan.
Mab had nearly driven them all apart, but they had all learned a valuable lesson in trusting one another more, and they set to repairing any cracks in their relationships so they couldn't be leveraged against them again.
But as the evening wore on, Goliath could tell not everything was well. Although Lexington's relationship with his brothers had been repaired, he noticed Lexington seemed to be nursing a hurt that had yet to be healed. Goliath remembered his own shortness with Lexington from the night before, and he knew he needed to address it. He excused himself from his mate, who was chatting with Hudson, and gestured to the young gargoyle to join him away from the others so they could speak privately. Timidly, the green gargoyle followed.
"Lexington, I wanted to apologize for how curtly I spoke with you last night," Goliath started, putting a large, heavy hand on the smaller gargoyles shoulder. Lex looked up at him with something like surprise at the apology, his large lantern eyes wide. "I wasn't very attentive or supportive in regards to your needs. It was not the behavior of a leader and especially not the behavior of a friend."
"It's fine. I was being selfish," Lexington said in a self-deprecating tone, shrugging the incident off. Goliath's shortness with him had been the least of his concerns that night. When power had finally been restored to the castle and Lex was able to get back onto a computer, he had one message waiting for him from Amp.
"We need to talk."
He'd been living in agony ever since, desperate to know what that could mean.
"Besides, he may not even share my feelings," Lex added bitterly.
As soon as he realized his slip his whole face grew hot, and he felt a knot form in his stomach. He hoped Goliath would not notice his word choice, but the clan leader had been making a point to pay careful attention to their conversation this time. Lexington hazarded a glance up at Goliath's granite-like features, which were drawn up in surprise, and instantly knew not a word had been missed.
"He?" Goliath repeated quietly.
"I—I…" Lexington stuttered, and then he flinched, squeezing his eyes shut, afraid to say anything else.
He felt another heavy hand on his other shoulder, but he refused to look up and make eye contact with his leader.
"It is not selfish to love or wish to be loved in return, Lexington," Goliath said gently. "I don't know how we will get you to London, but I promise I will look into it. We will find a way."
Lexington's whole mood shifted. Where once he was despondent and dejected, he was now beaming and stood taller as he looked up at Goliath who was smiling kindly down at him.
"Really?" he said brightly.
Goliath nodded.
"So… you don't think less of me… because I'm—" He still couldn't say it out loud.
"Because of who you love? Lexington… it would be rather hypocritical of me to do so, all things considered," Goliath replied, his eyes landing on Elisa on the other side of the room.
Lexington's large eyes filled with unshed tears. Goliath now knew his deepest, darkest secret, and instead of banishment like he had feared, his leader supported and accepted him. He was filled with such relief and joy that he thought he would burst… until he thought of his brothers. He didn't know what they would think. He just knew he didn't want their opinion of him to change.
"Don't tell the others, though, please? I'm not ready yet," Lexington said, panic creeping into his voice.
"You can tell them yourself when you are ready," Goliath said gently. "But you have nothing to fear. I know the human world thinks differently, and our clan has had more interactions with and influence from humans than most other clans, which is likely why you were afraid to tell me, but gargoyles do not hold such prejudices. Your brothers love you as we all do."
Lexington sniffled and wiped at his watering nose.
"I didn't know. Thank you for telling me that, and for everything else," he said, his chin trembling. "I mean that."
"Do not thank me yet. How often do you think Xanatos will make you watch Alex if he agrees to send you to London?" Goliath said wryly.
"I wouldn't mind," Lex said eagerly.
Goliath chuckled and clapped him on the back.
"Why don't you tell me more about this gargoyle who has captured your attention so," he said.
And Lexington enthusiastically did.
.
.
.
November 3, 1997
2:30 p.m.
Rikers Island
Xanatos stood silently outside of a prison cell in the most isolated and secure part of the detention centers on Rikers Island. Normally he wouldn't have been allowed inside this section of Rikers, where the most dangerous criminals were detained, but money was the grease that opened doors, and he had enough to buy his way through any door in the world.
He waited patiently until the guard had left and had unhooked the camera before closing the door behind him. Leaving Xanatos alone with the occupant of the solitary cell.
One glowing eye peered out at him from the shadows behind the iron bars.
"What brings you to this circle of hell, Rich Man?" a serpentine voice floated out to him from within.
"How interested are you in getting out of here?" Xanatos said coolly.
"Now, why would I want to leave a palace like this?" the voice joked, and he cackled maniacally to himself.
"If you and your associates agree to work for me again, I'd ensure your release," Xanatos replied, ignoring his sarcasm.
"We've played this game before, and we always wind up back here. Why would I want to work for you after all that shit?" the voice hissed, chains rattling as if he jerked suddenly.
"I'm sure I could make it worth your while."
There was a long pause and a mechanical whirl.
"Why?" was the eventual reply.
"My family is a target of someone dangerous, and I need a team who can help guarantee our safety by… eliminating the threat," Xanatos said.
There was a loud, derisive, cackling laugh.
"Don't you have gargoyles now to protect your precious castle?"
"They… are not enough."
"If you haven't noticed, we haven't been particularly successful at going up against gargoyles, let alone whatever it is you're afraid of," the voice taunted.
"What if I could offer you an incentive, something that would make you a force to be reckoned with, even against someone like Goliath?"
Jackal leaned forward in his cell, just enough that Xanatos could finally see him and the electrified chains that held him. His long face was twisted into a sneer.
"I'm listening."