Beneath all the sweat and tears and blood and dirt, I could still taste her. It was the most bittersweet kiss of my life, I decided, half in jest.
“It’s over,” I whispered.
“We did it,” she said, her voice incredulous at the realization that we’d survived, and we’d won.
In the distance, I could hear fire alarms going off, cars honking, and the other sounds of rescue teams, as they went around to the different parts of the city that had fallen apart.
I stood up. “Come on,” I said, tugging at her. “Let’s get out of this hole. It’s making me uncomfortable.”
Raiya coughed and struggled up the hill, but I held onto her, moving her forward. We reached the top of the crater and fell onto the grass.
I breathed in the smell of the grass and wondered at it. I knew I’d been so close to never seeing this world again. There was no taking things for granted. Not anymore.
Especially since victory had come at a high cost.
“Elysian didn’t make it,” I said, barely hearing myself say the words. I turned to see Raiya, as she wore the same stricken look of shock on her face I’d seen when her bow broke.
I turned away and stared at the ground, hoping for a miracle. Hoping that Elysian would burst out of the ground and then chide me for worrying in the first place.
And then we could argue all night long about who got what end of the bed and which blankets smelled like human versus the ones that smelled like dragon.
Then I heard a coughing sound. “Raiya?” I asked. “Are you alright?”
She gasped in pain as she doubled over, grabbing at her chest.
“What’s wrong?” I cried. “What’s happening?” I caught her and held her up, cradling her against me.
“Hamilton,” she whispered.
I kneeled down onto the ground, lying her carefully on her back, using my knees as a pillow. “What? What is it?” I asked, checking her temperature. I saw that her wound, the one on her arm that Draco had inflicted, was still bleeding out.
Has something happened to her heart? I wondered. A warning bell rang out in my head. She’d told me before, if I lost too much blood, there wouldn’t be anything she could do for me. It was likely true for her, too.
Weakly, Raiya pulled me close to her. “I’ll be waiting for you,” she said, before her eyes closed.
She went limp before I could ask her what she meant.
I felt her cheeks as they went soft, and I felt her pulse as it went weak; I watched as the Emblem of the Prince, the mark we shared under his banner, disappear from her wrist.
“Raiya?” I cupped her cheek and held her close, giving her a desperate kiss, as my last attempts at coherency failed me.
The image of her bow snapping shot through my mind. Was her heart truly broken at last?
“Come back,” I begged her, my voice suddenly thick and scratchy. I placed my hand over her silent heart, reaching out to her in the only way I could. “Come back to me.”
Nothing happened. Nothing changed.
“Adonaias!” I yelled. “Adonaias, help me! Please, we need your help … ”
I saw him appear before us. He said nothing, only stretched out his arms. The white of his tunic fluttered in the wind of my world as he waited for me to come rushing to him.
“She needs your help,” I tried to explain to him. “She’s … ”
I couldn’t say it. I wouldn’t say it.
“You need to help her,” I repeated, when he didn’t move.
His eyes glittered as they looked into mine.
It was at that moment that I realized he wasn’t going to help.
“No,” I shouted. “No, get away. You can’t have her!”
He didn’t move. His arms were still outstretched, waiting for me.
“No!” I hugged Raiya’s limp form to my chest even more tightly. “No, don’t. Please don’t.”
Nothing.
“You can’t have her! If she dies, you can’t have me, either!” I shouted, hardly realizing my sadness and despair were quickly morphing into anger and bitterness. “I can’t live without her—huh?”
I was surprised to feel his hand on my shoulder. Peace settled on me, and I could feel Raiya’s soul resting peacefully, too. I looked up into Adonaias’ eyes, their light piercing through my thick veil of tears.
“I make all things new,” he said, softly and surely.
It was a funny choice of words for the guy. Especially as the shallow peace Adonaias had brought me was just that—shallow. The cloak of protection I’d felt before whisked away, transforming into an insubstantial shadow.
Adonaias disappeared as I turned from him, and I told myself very certainly that I did not miss him.
I cuddled Raiya into my body as I tried to move her. I have to find a hospital, I thought. It wasn’t that far away. I could carry her. Couldn’t I?
I felt weak and numb as I tried to lift her. My power was dwindling, my energy was being depleted, and fast.
“Somebody, help!” I called, resuming my search for help.
Time passed, and my voice became cracked as I continued to cry out, calling out for help, any help at all. I eventually remembered health class, and tried CPR. I was screaming before long.
I watched the fires of the feather in her hair, the one I gave her, as it slipped away into ash. I said plenty of words, and saw other things, but I couldn’t be entirely sure of them, since my eyes were running over with water.
I thought I saw some emergency medics heading our way. I saw people moving, and I couldn’t do anything about it as I sat there in the middle of the grass, finally overwhelmed and crushed by life’s expectations.
The last thing I felt, before I closed my eyes, was the soft touch of snowflakes on my skin. And then, all I felt was the familiar sting of lightning as it tasered through my body.
*☼*
I woke up, some unknown amount of time later, in the hospital.
I was in one of those pitiful little rooms, where it looked more like a storage room for the older models of medical tech. I was no longer transformed, but I had on a hospital gown. I was hooked up to an IV, and I felt as though I’d been poked and prodded in places I didn’t want to think about.
The smell was the worst part, but, considering I had some idea of what true pain felt like, I knew I could ignore it.
There were some things I couldn’t ignore, two of which struck me right away. The first thing I saw was that the Emblem of the Prince was gone.
My mission was over. I couldn’t transform into Wingdinger anymore. I assumed, anyway; I didn’t bother to try, and I knew I wasn’t going to.
The second thing I noticed was that my eyes were still crinkly and blotchy. Remembering what happened took a toll on me I never really measured.
My nose prickled with pressure, and my sinuses were ready to explode. I felt the same amount of fear and helplessness as I had before the battle.
This time, Adonaias didn’t come. I felt his presence, but I didn’t see him, didn’t hear him, didn’t want him. Instead, I pressed back into my pillow, trying to push back the rest of my tears.
Once more it hit me, that Adonaias just didn’t fit in with normal suffering. What did he know of losing someone like Raiya? What did he know of pain like mine?
My mark was gone.
My sword was gone.
Elysian was gone.
Raiya was gone.
I wished I was gone, too.
*☼*
I guess I went to sleep again, because I woke up again, still unsure how much time had passed. I felt numb to all power, all forces. I didn’t care that it was dark, I didn’t care that it was cold. I didn’t even care I hadn’t eaten.
Even Mark’s presence wasn’t enough to make me worried.
“Hamilton,” he said, and not for the first time, my name sounded completely alien to me. “You’re awake.”
I looked over at him. I wanted to scream, “Congratulations on your superb observations sk
ills, Captain Obvious!”
But I held myself back. Just like I held my tears back. I breathed in, sharply and deeply, trying to recall I had to live, even if I didn’t really want to.
“You’ve been in here for a couple of days,” Mark told me, answering at least one of the questions I might’ve asked if it mattered to me anymore. “The reports have gone out, saying that you and some others were caught up in a surprise gas leak near the old Rosemont School that the repair crew missed.”
I said nothing. Mark would need to go away soon enough. I doubted he was here during his off-hours. I was too old to remember if he had ever had any off-hours that he sought to really spend time with me.
Losing my will to live, even if my body insisted on dragging me through it, while death seemed unwilling to let me die, didn’t seem like something Mark would change for.
Minutes passed before he spoke again.
“I don’t suppose you really care about the cover story,” he said.
I looked back over at him, still silent.
“Dante brought you here,” he said, “after everything.”
Everything.
What a quaint manner in which to discuss the death of not only Raiya, but Elysian, too. It was also a way to diminish their effort to stop Draco, to stop Alküzor, to stop the destruction of the world and the universe and everything.
“He asked me to find a private room for you,” Mark went on. “He thought it would be best to keep you here until you recovered.”
If I recover.
“You were pretty beat up,” Mark continued. “You had a large laceration on your arm, and several other scrapes. You were in a state of shock when you woke up the first time. We kept you down for a little bit, but we stopped the morphine drip for now.
“If you’re worried about your identity, don’t be. Dante and I were able to cover it up.”
I can’t believe he thinks I would worry about that now, of all times.
As Mark continued to tell me of how he had been on duty when the attack happened, and how he’d been called right after surgery, I took the time to glance back down at my wrist.
The mark was still gone. I ran my fingers over my wrist, my hands shaking slightly. I didn’t want the mark any longer; I felt used, abused, and discarded. I felt like I didn’t matter at all.
How could I? Life didn’t matter anymore, therefore it was ridiculous to even think I mattered.
“Your mother is hoping that you will be able to get back to school soon,” Mark said. “They’ve talked to us about delaying your AP exams until you’ve been through physical therapy. You might need it for your arm, since the cut was so deep,” he explained.
Again, why would I care about this?
Mark eventually dropped off into silence. I felt relieved. I didn’t want the responsibility of keeping the pretense of caring. I wasn’t really paying much attention, anyway, although I managed to give a silent, half-hearted, “yay,” as he told me Cheryl had let Ayako go. As much as I appreciated her kindness, her culinary tastes could easily go to hell.
Which was where I was. Alone, alone, and more alone. I was living through hell.
Finally, Mark sighed. He looked over at me somberly, like he was going to say something else (I prepared myself for the inevitable cringe), when his beeper went off.
He was being called back into a heart surgery.
“Well,” Mark said, “I’ve got to go.” He rose from his chair.
I was surprised when he leaned over and kissed my forehead. He hugged me, slightly, so as not to disturb my bandages.
“I love you, son,” he said, quietly but firmly, and in his own doctor/father way, I knew he was telling me to keep holding on. If I couldn’t move on, if I couldn’t continue on, the best thing was not to fall away.
He had only taken a step away from me when I spoke.
“What happened to Starry Knight?”
He jumped at my voice—I couldn’t blame him, I sounded like some kind of monster—before he turned around.
“Please,” he said, “please, don’t ask me that.”
I frowned. Instantly, I sat up as straight as I could. “Tell me,” I commanded, hoping that he would realize not knowing was the greater pain.
I felt a tingle of fear when Mark narrowed his eyes at me, which he had never done quite so horrifically. “I can’t give you the answers you’re looking for. Please don’t ask anything of me again, Hamilton.”
And then he walked out the door after adjusting the morphine tap.
It was almost welcoming to feel the rush of numbness replaced by the desire to sleep.
Some part of me, shocked at both ends of my father’s behavior, fully expected to die, even as he wanted me to survive.
When I did wake up, and I mean for real wake up, and not just to be forced to eat or change clothes or bathe, I found Dante staring down at me.
Mustering up what strength I could, hoping I wouldn’t end up slurring my words, I spoke up.
“What happened to Starry Knight?”
To his credit, Dante didn’t try to distract me from the truth of the matter.
“She died.”
He told me, so simply. I wondered if he would have answered me in a similar manner if I’d asked what was for dinner.
My chest felt swollen and bruised, as those simple words killed me all over again.
“Do you want to know the specifics?” Dante asked, making me wonder if he wasn’t getting some kind of sick pleasure out of my absolute misery.
I nodded.
“We reached you after we were able to move again,” he said. “We didn’t realize all that had happened, but we saw you both come up from the crater. You were both struggling, so we got the medical kits ready.”
I nodded. “I remember,” I admitted quietly.
“Then you’ll remember that you were inconsolable at the time,” Dante said. “We had to put you down.”
The fire of being tasered ran through my memory. I nodded.
“We brought you both here. We tried to save her. We didn’t.”
“What happened to her?” I asked.
“Your father warned her before about her heart,” Dante said. “She had an irregular heart. Mark even put her on the transplant list several years ago.”
She never mentioned that.
But I waved the thought away a second later. Until recently, she’d planned to die fighting the Sinisters and their cronies.
“We moved her into surgery,” Dante continued, “to see if we could restart her heart. Nothing worked. When we cut into her body, water came out along with blood.”
I remembered that description from somewhere else. “Her heart exploded.”
“Yes.”
Bitter laughter echoed from the depths inside of me. “Well,” I said, “it wouldn’t be the first time she left me that way.”
Dante said nothing about that. He changed the subject. A wise move, and one that I could appreciate, despite the fact that I still half-hated him.
“You’ve been placed under special care,” he said, “and your parents are understandably upset, but as you can see, they are still working. Some people grieve with work, you know.”
My parents have been “grieving” with work for a lot longer than the last three days.
“There was a lot of damage down to the area where the battle was,” he said. “There were also other places where the explosions caused damage, including Shoreside Park, and Lakeview Observatory. No one was seriously hurt. Maybe that was a miracle.”
His choice of words burned me, inflicting another round of wounds on me.
Adonaias had failed to save Raiya. He’d tried to comfort me, too, to make it worse.
Dante was still talking, taking my silence as a sign I wished for him to continue. I didn’t, but I let him.
I was tired, and I felt numb, and I wanted nothing to do with anything anymore.
Maybe, if I was silent long enough, he would give me a reason to keep on fighting
. Or maybe he would bore me to death and I would be saved that way.
Salvation through damnation, I thought bitterly.
He only spiked my interest, briefly, when he mentioned Mikey wanted to come visit me.
“Why?” I spat. “So he can rub everything in my face?”
“I told him no,” Dante said, “if it makes you feel better.”
I glared at him, my temper flaring. Only death will make me feel better.
“If you want him to visit, I’ll be happy to send him the message,” Dante said. “But that is something up to you, and I would not take that choice away for anyone’s sake, not even my son’s.”
I had to stop myself from saying that it was not a surprise to him, since Dante had the gall to leave Mikey and his family in the first place. He never seemed to have trouble disappointing his family.
“Where is Starry Knight now?” I asked. “Can I … can I at least see her … ”
In response to my question, Dante pushed the morphine tab. My IV drip began to increase, and I felt woozy only seconds later.
“You’d better hope I don’t get addicted to that stuff,” I murmured.
“Let’s hope for the hospital’s sake,” Dante corrected me. “But I believe it’s better for you to hear this now, when you’re unable to lose it again: Starry Knight gave all she had to protect you and this world.”
I felt even more numb, and not just from the morphine. I barely heard the rest of Dante’s speech as he told me that even though they have to deny the supernatural aspect of this situation to the public, citing that political power is best left out of the hands of those who would seek divine right to rule, or abuse the notions which have destroyed the past civilizations, he would always consider Starry Knight a true heroine.
“But she is gone from your life, Hamilton, and there is no escaping it,” he finished.
And then the darkness, the emptiness which had embraced me before, welcomed me back with mocking arms.
I had been blinded by the light inside of me, by the light of creation and power, an unparalleled spirited fire for goodness, justice, love, and mercy, too awesome to describe or even say without trembling.