Duty is heavier than a mountain; death is lighter than a feather.
- Unknown
***
"How do you go on?"
"It is simple. You will never forgive yourself. Accept it. You hurt others. That cannot be undone. You will never find
personal retribution. But your life does not have to end. That which is right, just, and true can still prevail. If you do not fight for what you believe in,
all may be lost for everyone else. But do not fight for yourself. Fight for others - others that may be saved through your effort. That is the least you can
do."
***
If there was a burden only you could bear, would you take it up?
If there was a failure only you knew, how much would it take to atone?
If there was a way to gain a second chance, how far would you go?
***
"I've seen that look before," the lady says, crossing her legs in front of her elegantly as she looked at the girl. "How many did you
lose?"
"Too many," the girl replies, blonde hair still disheveled and undone, cascading over one shoulder. Smudges of unknown material decorate her face,
neck, and hands, contrasting considerably with the clean change of clothes she was given to replace the hospital gown after the emergency room had cut her out
of her previous attire to get at the bleeding.
"They were your friends?" the lady asks.
"Friends. Comrades. Some just thought that I would be the one to get them out. That I could save them. But in the end, I couldn't save any of
them." There's no bitterness. No anger in that sentence. Just guilt and regret, crushing and overpowering, locked behind iron control. The girl sounds
almost emotionless, but her interviewer can tell it's a facade.
"I've looked at the recording data from your suit. What you did was remarkable. It's amazing you got as far out of there as you did." The
lady speaks this praise honestly. The "lab" they escaped from would better be considered a fortress.
"Because I sacrificed those I had to to get that chance. I wasn't strong enough. Wasn't smart enough to get them all out." The girl shows a
twinge of emotion, regret and recrimination playing on her face before she can get them under control.
"So I suppose the question is, will you be taking up that sword of yours again?"
"Yes." Not a moment's hesitation, but not a molecule of joy at the prospect either. Melancholy acceptance clings to her like armor.
"I've seen situations like yours before. I already have one on my hands that's almost more trouble than she's worth. Are you going to be
another rogue element?" the lady asks, even though she knows the answer already from looking into those deep, honest blue eyes.
"No. I survived the butchers. I will not become another one."
"Even for revenge?"
"Blood for blood turns the whole world red. Killing those who killed my comrades will not bring them back, and turning into a monster to avenge them will
not help them find peace."
The lady waits for a moment, expecting something more, and the girl does not disappoint.
"...we were going to be heroes....protectors. That was why we wanted to be free. We wanted to be like you. Otherwise, we could have been the killers they
sought us to be."
"I see." The lady ponders in silence, while the girl remains solid, unphased by the lack of response. Then she speaks again.
"And what if I told you there was a chance to get them back? Your friends? Slight. Almost impossible. But a chance?"
"You would have my aid and my gratitude, and no enemy could stand before me that I would not strike down."
The lady considers the reports and recordings. The girl underplays her skill, her brilliance, and her power. Anyone normal would not have escaped, and anyone average would have been crushed. The girl is
neither. The lady knows the danger of a sword that possesses no sheathe. A danger to the owner as much as her foes. But this weapon is especially keen and of
superlative quality....and beyond the tactical evaluation, the lady thinks this one can still be saved from her own self-destructive guilt.
"We would be very grateful if you would assist us. I can't promise anything but that chance, but it's better than nothing.
The girl nods. She knows the odds, even without knowing the details.
"And what did they call you there, before you escaped?" the lady asks, for names convey meaning, but also identity.
"When they didn't use numbers, my instructors called me 'Sovereign'."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."
- Unknown
***
"How do you go on?"
"It is simple. You will never forgive yourself. Accept it. You hurt others. That cannot be undone. You will never find
personal retribution. But your life does not have to end. That which is right, just, and true can still prevail. If you do not fight for what you believe in,
all may be lost for everyone else. But do not fight for yourself. Fight for others - others that may be saved through your effort. That is the least you can
do."
***
If there was a burden only you could bear, would you take it up?
If there was a failure only you knew, how much would it take to atone?
If there was a way to gain a second chance, how far would you go?
***
"I've seen that look before," the lady says, crossing her legs in front of her elegantly as she looked at the girl. "How many did you
lose?"
"Too many," the girl replies, blonde hair still disheveled and undone, cascading over one shoulder. Smudges of unknown material decorate her face,
neck, and hands, contrasting considerably with the clean change of clothes she was given to replace the hospital gown after the emergency room had cut her out
of her previous attire to get at the bleeding.
"They were your friends?" the lady asks.
"Friends. Comrades. Some just thought that I would be the one to get them out. That I could save them. But in the end, I couldn't save any of
them." There's no bitterness. No anger in that sentence. Just guilt and regret, crushing and overpowering, locked behind iron control. The girl sounds
almost emotionless, but her interviewer can tell it's a facade.
"I've looked at the recording data from your suit. What you did was remarkable. It's amazing you got as far out of there as you did." The
lady speaks this praise honestly. The "lab" they escaped from would better be considered a fortress.
"Because I sacrificed those I had to to get that chance. I wasn't strong enough. Wasn't smart enough to get them all out." The girl shows a
twinge of emotion, regret and recrimination playing on her face before she can get them under control.
"So I suppose the question is, will you be taking up that sword of yours again?"
"Yes." Not a moment's hesitation, but not a molecule of joy at the prospect either. Melancholy acceptance clings to her like armor.
"I've seen situations like yours before. I already have one on my hands that's almost more trouble than she's worth. Are you going to be
another rogue element?" the lady asks, even though she knows the answer already from looking into those deep, honest blue eyes.
"No. I survived the butchers. I will not become another one."
"Even for revenge?"
"Blood for blood turns the whole world red. Killing those who killed my comrades will not bring them back, and turning into a monster to avenge them will
not help them find peace."
The lady waits for a moment, expecting something more, and the girl does not disappoint.
"...we were going to be heroes....protectors. That was why we wanted to be free. We wanted to be like you. Otherwise, we could have been the killers they
sought us to be."
"I see." The lady ponders in silence, while the girl remains solid, unphased by the lack of response. Then she speaks again.
"And what if I told you there was a chance to get them back? Your friends? Slight. Almost impossible. But a chance?"
"You would have my aid and my gratitude, and no enemy could stand before me that I would not strike down."
The lady considers the reports and recordings. The girl underplays her skill, her brilliance, and her power. Anyone normal would not have escaped, and anyone average would have been crushed. The girl is
neither. The lady knows the danger of a sword that possesses no sheathe. A danger to the owner as much as her foes. But this weapon is especially keen and of
superlative quality....and beyond the tactical evaluation, the lady thinks this one can still be saved from her own self-destructive guilt.
"We would be very grateful if you would assist us. I can't promise anything but that chance, but it's better than nothing.
The girl nods. She knows the odds, even without knowing the details.
"And what did they call you there, before you escaped?" the lady asks, for names convey meaning, but also identity.
"When they didn't use numbers, my instructors called me 'Sovereign'."
---
"Oh, silver blade, forged in the depths of the beyond. Heed my summons and purge those who stand in my way. Lay
waste."