Chapter Text
The dirt under her palms was still fresh.
It was caked onto her fingers and was wedged in dark crescents beneath her nails. It was cold too—or maybe she was just imagining it, everything felt colder now.
The smell reminded her of all the days she would spend out in the garden with her father, The Mason, digging up radishes and planting fresh cabbage, pulling out weeds and watching little ladybugs and rolly pollies wander over the dirt mounds to wherever they were going.
She blinked away the memory. It did not feel right to think of something so happy and real after what she just witnessed—Not that what she has seen was anything but real.
Her eyes fluttered up to the cross, its smooth oak beams cutting into the sky and casting a long shadow across the coarse dirt in the pale moonlight. The wood was fresh, not a scratch on it. She had made sure to find the best logs for him. He deserved it.
One side of the cross was strangled with bright Folly pink blossoms—their color almost painful against the dark—clinging to the wood as if refusing to let it stand alone. Her eyes lingered over the blossoms a moment longer than anything else, but then she moved on.
At its base, the hill fell away in uneven steps of dirt, grass, spruce planks, and gravel. The sides of the path were dotted with small and fragile corn flowers that looked too small to survive in the elements for very long. From where she lay, sprawled in the cold earth, the cross blotted out a piece of the stars, a dark interruption in the endless sky.
Lux felt its presence like a weight on her chest—a marker of death, but also an anchor, holding her here while the heavens watched in silence.
And in the center of it all, a little sign hung from a nail and a thin piece of rope, the words carefully written over the surface:
Here Lies
doctor4t
Rest in Mischief
And beneath the packed earth, beneath the disrupted roots and stones and the giant cross above it all, RAT was supposed to be lying under it all. But he was not. He never would.
Lux took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it go. She lay sprawled beside the grave, her back pressed into the grass, one arm flung out toward the disturbed soil as if she might reach him if she stretched far enough. The earth was cold through her clothes, damp with the night, and it leeching the warmth from her bones.
She looked at the cross again, at the name. At his name...
He was all she had. And he was gone.
The wind whistled through the valley, a low, mournful whisper that echoed in her ears, swirled through her purple hair, and gently swayed down the hill to RAT's cabin home.
It threaded through the branches of the nearby spruce trees, tugged at the grass around her body, and slid over her skin like a warning she was too tired to listen to. It felt like the world was holding its breath with her.
Her eyes burned, but the tears refused to come. They stayed lodged somewhere deep in her chest, pressing down on her lungs every time she tried to breathe too deeply.
“I’m still here,” she whispered, the words drifting upward rather than down “I don’t know why. But I am.”
She turned her head and looked up.
The sky above was clear tonight. No clouds, no haze, nothing to soften the sheer number of stars scattered across the black like shards of glass. They burned white and cold and impossibly distant, layered so thickly it felt as though the sky might crack beneath their weight.
A million points of light.
Lux searched them without realizing she was doing it, her gaze snagging on clusters, on patterns pulled from stories and teachings she hadn’t thought about in years.
Her father used to point them out to her.
“There,” he said, lifting his hand up to the stars. His finger traced nothing at all, yet somehow everything. Invisible lines drawn between stars she couldn't name, patterns only he seemed to see. "Do you know what they are?"
Lux shook her head, waiting in silent awe for her father to continue.
"Up there, all those stars in the sky, they are souls of fallen soldiers and warriors..." His voice is low, yet powerful in a way only he could be. “Inventors. Builders,” he continued. “The ones who leave something behind when the world tries to take everything from them.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeve without her realizing it, the leather worn smooth where her thumb rested. She leaned into him, chin pressed against his shoulder, breathing his smell in, worn from time, strong and powerful, caring and fatherly.
“Do they hurt?” she asked.
The Mason smiled down at her. He shifted, draping an arm behind her back.
“No,” he said after a moment. “They are done hurting.” He looked up again, eyes reflecting the millions of tiny dots in the cosmos. “They become stars not because they’re perfect... But because they tried.”
His hand lowered, resting over hers. “And even though they are not with us now, it doesn't mean they aren't here."
"They are watching us," Lux breathed.
He chuckled, pulling her closer. "They are. Because the world would be darker without them.”
Lux swallowed hard.
Her throat hurt.
“Are you up there?” she asked to the sky, the question slipping free before she could stop it. “Did you… did you make it?”
She imagined RAT as a star—Shooting across the endless cosmos in a trail of bright Folly pink, refusing to fade no matter how dark the world became. Watching. Waiting. Probably judging her a little for lying here instead of doing something useful. Or maybe he was mourning with her for leaving so soon. Not like he had a choice.
A bitter laugh slipped out of her before she could stop it. It came out sharp and hateful and she pressed a hand to her mouth, breath hitching as she stared back up at the stars.
But the night remained empty.
Lux shifted slightly, curling closer to the grave as if it might offer warmth. The grass whispered beneath her movement. The cold seeped deeper, but she let it. It kept her present. Kept her from drifting too far into memories she was too afraid to face yet.
She tried to keep her thoughts away from him, but they seeped in slowly. All the times they had spent together. All the memories. Her eyes briefly hit the anchor blade resting against the base of the cross.
He taught her how to use it.
For just a moment, he felt more than just a friend. More like a father to her.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed her. Her eyes drooped and her limbs felt heavy. She turned toward the spruce cross, her cheek resting against the earth at its base. One hand found the wood without thought, fingers curling around the edge. She breathed in the scent of the soil and the Folly blossoms and the tiny bits of sap on the wood.
Then her eyes closed.
Sleep came quietly.
* * *
A sharp caw tore her from her sleep.
Lux jerked awake with a gasp, heart slamming violently against her ribs. For a split second, she didn’t know where she was—only that something was wrong, that she was exposed and vulnerable and—
Her eyes snapped open.
A raven sat atop the cross.
It was large, its feathers glossy and black, catching the early morning sun along Its edges. Its head cocked to one side as it studied her, beady eyes unblinking and far too intelligent.
Lux scrambled backward, nearly tripping over her own shoes. Her hand flew to her back, expecting her anchor to be there, but it wasn't.
The raven cawed again, as if mocking her.
"Ha ha," Lux mimicked. "Like you won't scream if I snuck up on you." She hesitated for a moment, realizing she was talking to a bird. Lux look at it again, only then noticing the thin strip of parchment tied carefully around its leg, secured with twine.
A message.
"Great," Lux sighed. "Who sent you?"
The raven cawed its response, sharper this time, hopping once along the cross as if impatient.
Lux hesitated, then reached out slowly. Her fingers trembled slightly as she untied the twine, careful not to startle the bird. The parchment came free easily. The raven lingered just long enough to watch her unfold it, then it took off, wings beating once—twice—and vanished into the morning sky.
Lux stared after it for a moment before forcing her attention back to the note.
The handwriting was precise and familiar.
Luxintrus,
You are formally invited to attend the upcoming World Fair, proudly presented by Oceana.
Your presence is requested not merely as a guest, but as a representative of our continued alliance.
Preparations are underway.
— D. Vulkarch
Lux’s grip tightened around the parchment.
Oceana.
She exhaled slowly through her nose.
Of course it was Diansu.
Of course it was now.
She folded the note carefully and slipped it into her pocket, then turned back toward the grave. The spruce cross stood silent, unchanged, as it would for a long, long time. “I have to go,” she said softly.
The words tasted weird. She wasn't ready to leave him yet. She knelt again and pressed her palm flat against the earth. “I don’t want to leave you,” she whispered. “But maybe… maybe it’ll keep my mind off things. Just for a little while.”
Nothing changed when the words left her lips.
Lux stood. She looked once more at the cross, committing every detail to memory—the slight lean to the left, the Folly blossoms, the way the wood caught the light.
“I’ll come back,” she promised. “I swear.”
Then she turned away from the grave and began the long walk toward a future she didn't fully trust. And behind her, the night thinned into morning, the sky paling as dawn crept over the horizon, bearing witness to another soul left to join the stars.