Chapter Text
Aemeath awoke to find she was floating thousands of feet in the air.
The feeling of weightlessness was strange, but somehow not unpleasant. Just above her, millions upon millions of glimmering stars of every color she could imagine smiled down at her. They were so, so close. She outstretched her arm and caressed the sky, leaving a magnificent aurora in her wake. It felt warm in her hand. The stars shone brighter still, happy to share their light with Aemeath. Then a comet rushed by, its ethereal tail of dust and ice flickering in the night in a glorious display reserved only for her. A sense of peace like she had never known filled her soul.
Suddenly, a colossal tearing sound ripped through the night. The sky—which she had held so close only moments ago—was yanked away from her and slashed into tatters by claws that she couldn’t see. She heard shrieking from somewhere very far away as she plunged down, down, down. They were her own screams. The unnatural gaze of a melting eyeball bored into her, and then through her, as she plummeted further and further into the void.
Aemeath slammed into the hard ground with a sickening thud. Her body ached all over, but she somehow managed to pull herself upright. When she opened her eyes she found she was in a familiar house, sitting in her usual spot at the table, eating dinner. Two blank figures sat across from her, chatting and enjoying their meal. Aemeath burst into tears at the sight. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make out even a single detail of either of them. It was like there was a hole in her mind that wouldn’t let her see. They were her parents, she knew, but she was losing more and more of them every day. She distinctly knew the taste of Mama’s special soup, but couldn’t remember sharing it with her. She had memorized every word of the lullabies Papa used to sing, but couldn’t recall the sound of his voice. She knew they loved her dearly, and only the feeling of her parents’ love had remained fresh in her mind. It wasn’t really a memory, just a warmth in her chest, but it was the only thing that had proven strong enough to resist the Voidmatter’s corruption. But for how long? One day, would that disappear too? The thought chilled her to the bone as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Aemeath? Aemeath, it’s alright. It’s not real,” a female voice said. “You’re safe now.” Aemeath peered open her bleary eyes to find Rover looking down at her with a concerned expression. “It’s not real,” she repeated as she stroked the girl’s hair. Aemeath shuddered and wiped her cheeks dry. Aemeath knew she was trying to make her feel better, but Rover was wrong. Dreams were real sometimes. Grown-ups didn’t seem to understand that for some reason. “Take a few deep breaths with me, just like this,” Rover said. She breathed in softly and exhaled. Aemeath followed her lead and took a few shaky breaths. A minute later she had calmed down enough to speak.
“I should’ve held on tighter to my talisman. If I had just held on . . .” she said. “Mama and Papa gave it to me. They told me I wouldn’t ever be alone if I had it with me.”
Rover paused, taking the time to choose her words carefully. “Your parents loved you, Aemeath. Even if they aren’t with us any more, even if you can’t remember them, nothing will ever change that. Not even losing your talisman.” Aemeath nodded slowly. That made sense, even if it did little to ease the knot in her chest. “I’ve got something that might help you feel better. Take a look over there.”
She opened the curtain and pointed to something Aemeath couldn’t see. Curious, she swung her short legs over the side of the bed and dropped down to the floor. Now fully awake, she only just noticed the scent emanating from the kitchen. Sitting on the table was a stack of pancakes so high Aemeath couldn’t see over the top of it. A fresh tub of butter and a bowl of glistening berries rested beside it. She hadn’t seen a meal so inviting in ages. “Go ahead and—” Rover started. Aemeath didn’t even let her finish her sentence. She practically ran over to grab a plate and snatched up as many pancakes as she could lift. She slathered a coating of butter on them, dumped a heap of berries on top, and took a huge bite. “—Dig in,” she finished. The food tasted heavenly. When was the last time she had eaten? Over a day ago? She couldn’t recall. All she could think about now was stuffing herself silly.
Rover chuckled and took some pancakes for herself. She waited a minute for Aemeath to slow down before trying to start a conversation. “I’ve been meaning to ask—how did you end up all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? The nearest village is pretty far off.”
Aemeath looked up, still chewing on a mouthful of pancake. “Oh, I took the train up here,” she said casually.
Rover cocked an eyebrow at that. “You mean you’re from the underground?”
“Yep. Well, sorta. I’m originally from up here, but I live in Bjartr Woods.”
“But that’s miles away, even with the train! Surely you weren’t alone that whole time?!”
“I sure was!” Aemeath said with way too much pride. She then scarfed down the last bit of her pancake.
Rover sighed and cupped her head in her hands. “Have you thought about how the people that took you in are feeling? I’m sure they’re worried right now.”
Aemeath wasn’t so certain. She was pretty sure they were only letting her live with them so they could brag about it to their neighbors. She remembered eavesdropping on a phone call her new Mom (who had insisted Aemeath call her that) had with someone she didn’t know. “Well, she just looked so pitiful, all alone like that,” she said in her annoying, nasally voice. “One look at her and I knew I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t open my doors to her. So I took her in out of the goodness of my heart. Unlike a certain someone.” And on and on she went. When no one was looking, they mostly just ignored her.
“Um . . . I don’t really think so,” Aemeath said. “They don’t like me very much.”
“But even then, I’m sure they’ll want to know you’re safe,” she insisted. “Do you have their number?” Rover held out her phone expectantly so Aemeath could type the digits in. With a sinking feeling in her stomach, she reluctantly did so.
Three rings, then four. Pick up already, Rover thought anxiously. What was taking so long? On the fifth ring, a deep, lightly accented male voice answered. “Hello? Who is this?”
“My name’s Rover. I found Aemeath late last night in the frostlands. You’ll be happy to hear she’s safe and sound.”
There was a pause. “What are you talking about?” The man replied cautiously.
“Aemeath? The girl you adopted? Did she give me the wrong number?” Out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of Aemeath staring at the ground.
“No, hang on, this is the right number,” he said shakily. “What the hell do you mean Aemeath’s in the frostlands? Isn’t she still in her room?” She could hear heavy footsteps on the other end of the line. “Aemeath?” Knock, knock, knock. “Aemeath?!”
Rover’s blood went cold, then started to boil. “She’s been missing for well over a day now,” she said slowly. Behind her words was a primal fury that she was only just managing to suppress. She gritted her teeth, her free hand balling into a fist. “And you only just now noticed?”
“Well, I . . .” the man stammered. “I’ve been busy with work. I can’t be expected to look after the brat all the time. Besides, you said she was fine, right? No harm done.”
Rover snapped. “No harm done? No harm done?!” She was shouting now. “Did you know she nearly drowned? How long would it have taken for you to notice? Would you even care? What kind of asshole adopts a child just to neglect them all day?”
The man on the other side of the phone started to say something to defend himself, but trailed off before Rover could make out the words. Eventually, he simply said, “Thank you for letting me know,” in a small, distant voice. He quickly hung up.
Rover was still fuming over the incident an hour later. They had finished their breakfast mostly in silence, and she was now scrubbing the dishes clean. She didn’t have much in her cabin that would interest a child, so she had turned on the television to some cartoon and given Aemeath the remote. She glanced over at where the little girl was sitting on the couch. Good. That seemed to be holding her interest for now. She turned back to the dishes and attacked a particularly stubborn spot that had hardened on the pan.
Rover had lived for an awfully long time. She had seen things that would astonish ordinary people, things that very few would ever believe. She had witnessed acts of cruelty so sickening that it made her want to hide herself away and forget all about the Mission, and she had seen selfless deeds so heartwarming that they reminded her why she endured it all. Lately, however, her will to continue her work had been . . . faltering. It wasn’t that she no longer cared about Solaris—she did, and always would. Almost to a fault, Shorekeeper claimed. But as the years dragged on it had become impossible to accept that this hostile alien world would be her prison forever. Day after day, memories of home incessantly wriggled their way into the forefront of her mind. Friends and family she might never see again, food, art, and a language that she could now only scarcely recall crowded her thoughts more and more. In a hopeless attempt to distract herself, she devoted her life to the Mission more fervently than ever before, working herself to the bone and risking her neck whenever the opportunity arose. When that didn’t help, she accepted a quiet research position at Startorch monitoring the Exostrider. She had claimed to her friends that isolating herself in the remote frostlands was all to “clear her head,” or some variation of that excuse. Rover would never admit it out loud, but she had become so fixated on her own longing that she had left very little room for others in her life.
So it had come as a surprise to her, then, that she had reacted so intensely earlier. She had seen the Lament take thousands of lives, and she had helped rebuild cities after it had run its course. Aemeath was far from the first orphan she had met. So what was it, then? Maybe she saw a bit of herself in the little girl? Or perhaps she was just looking for an outlet to vent all the anger she didn’t realize she was holding onto. Rover couldn’t say for sure. What she did know was this: She cared for Aemeath, and she was going to make certain she had a proper childhood, no matter what.