The gathering was solemn, at the foot of a covered statue in the park where the Founder's Hall of Eden Academy had once stood. Men and women all wore black, except for three women who wore the uniforms of Berlint municipal employees. So did the children, many of them scarred or worse. A boy with one leg missing hobbled in on crutches. A girl gazed down at arms that ended in stumps, one at the elbow and the other at the wrist. A young man found his way with a cane. And in the front row, a girl with pink hair tied up in two black cones stroked the fur of a huge white dog. In her free hand, she twirled a four-winged tin-plate rocket ship that was clearly a repainted fighter jet. She gave no heed to a woman who put an arm around her, whose long and vibrant red hair bore a single streak of white.
There was muted applause at the unveiling of the statue, a stylized, almost abstract representation of a griffin shielding a chick with its broken wing. A man with a mustache and oddly large eyes took to the podium, escorted by a man in uniform with several scars. "You know who I am," he said. "We all know why we are here. This is the third anniversary of the Third Ostania-Westalis War and the declaration of the Final Peace. But we know it by other names. The bombing of Eden Academy. The Eden Incident. The Eden Massacre. For others, it is horror, horror reduced to an entry in a history book. But we cannot pull back to numbers on a page. That is why we are holding this service. Let others remember the many. We will remember the few, the fallen of Cecile Hall, forever more named Griffin Hall in honor of my son, Damian Desmond."
He leaned visibly on the podium, as if straining against a great weight pressing down. "I will not say I loved my son as I should have," he said. "I only hoped that I could teach him the meaning of courage and of sacrifice. My greatest regret is that I cannot tell him how proud I am now. But I will not take away from the others who perished. Master Henderson, elegant to the last… Ewen Egeburg and Emile Elman, friends to the end… Bill Watkins, first to serve… Rebecca Blackbell, the light of so many lives…" The list went on, to the one all knew would come. "And one more, an angel who was among us but not of us, Yor Forger."
He paused. "Who would have thought that the evils of one generation would take the futures of so many of the next?" he said, as if musing. "And who would have thought that the first Westalian troops into Berlint would be coming to our aid? That the first emissaries to offer peace would beg for forgiveness? Who could have imagined that the most elite academy in Ostania would reopen as a free school for the disabled? Who could have dreamed that the anniversary of such horror would find us so close to uniting in peace?" He briefly closed his eyes. "Now I give the podium to Yuri Briar and Loid Forger."
A sandy blond man supported a dark-haired, red-eyed man as they ascended to the stage. Yuri quickly had the group in tears. "They said not to lift the wreck of that jet," he said with surprising composure. "Of course, they didn't think I could really do it. They said whatever I saw wouldn't be her. They still say nothing human could have stopped the plane from running down the children she freed. But I knew my sister. I saw you, Yor. I knew you won."
He dropped to his knees. "My sweet sister!" he bawled. "Your heart was stronger than a mine field, your love was greater than a madman's hate! You saved the lives of so many, but you didn't think of saving your own! Oh, my sister! I would have every bone that you broke shattered one by one to take your place! Oh, Yor, the avionics mast in your ribcage didn't leave a hole as big as the one in my heart!"
"Don't overdo it, Yuri," Loid said. He shifted to take the microphone. "You know what? I have something to say. They say this happened because of grief turned into madness. Well, Yor knew grief. She lost her parents, but that didn't make her a monster, or an angel, either. It only made her more dedicated, as a sister, a mother, a wife and a friend. So how could anyone who knew and honored her choose greater evil over good? This is why the world listened when we said, ENOUGH!" He brought his fist down, with such force that the podium split in two.
A woman with lavender hair came to Yuri's side and raised him to his feet. "Oh, Loi-Loi," Yuri said. "If there is one good thing to come of all this, it is that I can call you my brother! Live to remember!" He raised a fist in the sign of victory. "Remember- but do not hate!"
The ceremony went on. The fathers of Becky and Bill took the stage, after the podium was replaced, and immediately collapsed crying in each other's arms. The mothers of Ewen and Emile got through their speeches. A woman in uniform with red-gold hair spoke about her former coworker and how she had learned to forgive by her example. Finally, the pink-haired girl took the stage, still holding her rocket, watched expectantly by Papa and the woman she called Aunt Sylvia.
"Um," she said. "My name is Anya." She looked out at the crowd. By powers still known only to a few, she sensed the feelings throughout the group: Grief, both selfless and selfish and sometimes in equal parts in one mind; loss, of family and companionship and the hopes and dreams that were theirs rather than their children's; and sheer emptiness.
"Becky was my best friend," she said. "When I was new and everybody was mean to me because my Papa wasn't rich, she helped me. She loved to talk about Berlint In Love, an' I just watched cartoons, an' sometimes she was kinda annoying, but she was really, really nice. Damian gave us a hard time, but he was pretty cool when you got to know him. An' Bill was a good guy. I wish they could be here."
She ran her hand over the wheels of the rocket ship, producing a flurry of sparks in its partly transparent rear. "But there's one person I owe everything to," she said. "He saved my life. He hugged me when we were crying for Mama an' Becky an' everybody. He held my hand when we walked out. His name is Georgie Glooman. I'm glad you're still here with me." Papa and Aunt Sylvia came to her side. Another followed, a boy with a broad face and a scar on one cheek. It was the boy that Anya embraced as a solemn applause rose up from the gathered onlookers.
The four descended from the stage. Behind them, a famed singer took the stage, veiled for anonymity. She sang the chorus of the farewell song of Westalia:
"Oh you took the high road and I took the low
And if they meet ag'in only Heaven will know
But it may be that I afore you will go
Back to the fair shores of the far Isle of Faerus…"
Anya looked up at Sylvia, and found her looking down with a single tear in her eye. "Let's go," Sylvia said. Anya took her stepmother's hand as they followed Papa to the car.