The Celestial Way

Chapter 15.4 - Long Way

His memories recalled the sports tournament from the other day. He remembered how skeptical he was when Zuckeroff first proposed to retrofit one of the hangars into a stadium. The project had cost a small fortune in terms of resources, yet Cloud had also backed it, citing the benefits it would bring for keeping the refugees stable and occupied.

He had come that night to see the results for himself, and had seen Veralla: enchanted by the spectacle, exploring the sights before her with the same wide-eyed curiosity just like the day she hatched. She had been elated to see him, and excited to share this new experience with him. Yet he'd been too absorbed in his troubles, too tense with desire to be away in the field, where he felt he was doing something concrete, something that gave what little remained of his life a consolatory coda.

Now, he realized what he actually wanted: to be able to talk to someone, to share his curt sentiments on the situation, to vent his choking frustration, to rage at his meaningless existence, to... to just surround himself, if only briefly, with the illusion of being a normal person having a normal life. And the only one who had given him such ephemeral reprieve was Veralla. Yet that night he had ignored her again, reducing her to just another dragon, and had left without even the tiniest consideration of her feelings.

Maybe...

He angrily cast away those thoughts. Vengeance was only what mattered to him, void it! Nothing else! Nobody else. Who would even accept someone like him?

He rose to his feet and moved next to the office's oval window. Without being sure what exactly he was doing, he accessed the Viirt through the smart-surface glass, and called up the sensor feeds from the base's living quarters. The holiday celebrations were in full swing and the refugees were everywhere, dancing in the large interior plazas, carousing in the lounges, and partying even in the hallways en route from one event to another. Colorful flags and draperies hung from the walls and ceilings, AR graphics overloaded the audio-visual spectrum, and fireworks were haphazardly fired in constant fashion, making the festivities dreamlike in appearance.

Airo silently observed the celebrations. He lifted his hand and the bottle clinked when it bumped the window. When did he get this? He turned his head toward the nanofabricator in the office's corner, as if seeing the machine for the first time. He didn't remember getting anything. It didn't matter. He took a deep draught and let the alcohol release him from his torment.

His eyes returned to the glass screen. All those people... they were on the verge of losing everything, including their lives, yet they seemed so carefree and happy tonight. They raised toasts together, they embraced each other... and shared intimate moments. It was as if they were untouchable, their inner light immortal; not because they were physically invincible, but because they seemed to follow some higher principle, to live some greater truth... which he couldn't fathom.

He drank more. Then even more. His mind blurred, the world outside becoming nothing else but background noise. He drank further still, looking to black out even the microcosm inside him. Yet the haunting thoughts refused to go away: Ferrtau's living chronicle, the celebrating refugees, the Radiant Knights, Veralla... Their images swirled like wayward rays of light inside the dark, grey limbo of his soul.

He threw away what he held in his hands, and grabbed his head. His gauntleted fingers dug deep rifts into his hair. He snarled, the sound distant to his own ears, its meaning both a challenge and an unspoken question. For the merest of moments, his singular resolve broke. Deep down, amidst the blackest recesses of his being, something stirred awake.

A desire for kinship.

"May the stars always shine upon your soul."

He whipped around, shocked by the words. Magus Dei, tall and regal in his red-gold robe, stood at the office's threshold, his bearing calm and introspective.