Ray continued, "You stage one evolvers know me as the infamous Priest Light." He ran a hand through his white hair.
"So what is all this madness?" Loki stepped forward, his voice rising. "You're a monster."
Joycelyn smacked Loki on the back of his head. He crashed to his knees. Tars screamed and reached for him, but Joycelyn stood over them both, tears streaming down her face.
"Priest Light is just a title," Joycelyn said, her voice cracking. "It's a role Captain took when we lost Dan in the battle last year."
She knelt down, bringing herself to their level.
"We were in camps just like you. We had dreams just like you. We had friends. We hated Priest Light. Some of us still do."
"Joycelyn, that's enough." Ray's voice was firm.
"No, Captain." She didn't look away from Loki and Tars. "I'm sorry, but they need to know." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "We were happy there were survivors this time. In our sector, it's been two years since we had any."
She reached out as if to touch Loki's shoulder, then stopped herself.
"But you have to know we are not the enemy. Priest Light is a character. A role someone has to play."
Lisa grabbed Joycelyn by the ear and yanked. "Captain said enough, so enough already, damn it." She twisted, and Joycelyn yelped. "We all want to blame someone. The Captain knew what he was getting himself into when he agreed to become Priest Light."
She let go. Joycelyn rubbed her ear, glaring, but said nothing.
"Hey."
Ray's voice was quiet, but everyone went still. Loki climbed to his feet, Tars beside him.
"You have questions," Ray said. "But tradition comes first. And I'm sure you're hungry. Let's get this over with."
He opened a door behind him
.
Light spilled through Loki stepped through and stopped.
Grass. Real grass, green and soft, stretching toward a sky that was actually blue. The air smelled of earth and growing things, so fresh it made his chest ache. He had read about this. He had dreamed about it. He had never once believed he would stand in it.
A farm sat to one side rows of vegetables, fruit trees, chickens scratching in the dirt. A tall wooden building stood at the far end, a sign hanging above its door: Lightning Squad A.
He looked back. The building they had come from was the same one—just another entrance. The walls around the compound were high, but inside was a world he had only seen in books.
They walked past the farm, following Ray. The path led to a gate, black iron with words welded into the metal: Field of Burning Dreams
Ray opened it and stepped through.
The graveyard stretched before them. Tombstones lined the grass in neat rows, a hundred of them at least. Cherry trees grew between the graves, their pink petals drifting down to carpet the earth. The air smelled of flowers and something older, something that made Loki's throat tighten.
"Talk to your friends," Ray said, stopping at the edge of the graves. "They're buried here. Each one of them."
Loki and Tars ran toward a sign that read Camp 12. The tombstones beneath it were small, too small. Mari's name was carved into one. Tony's. Others from Camp 12—names Loki knew, faces he remembered. At the bottom of the stone, an inscription:
Dedicated to these brave children who sacrificed their lives for the existence of mankind. Year 150 AD.
Loki knelt. The grass was soft beneath his knees.
Tars knelt beside him.
"Mari," Loki said. His voice was barely a whisper. "We're safe. We're alive."
"We survived," Tars added. Her hand found his, their fingers lacing together. "We wanted you to know."
Loki looked at the tombstone, at Mari's name carved into cold stone. "We'll stop all this madness," he said. "I promise."
"We miss you," Tars said. Her voice broke on the last word.
They stopped pretending then. No more being strong for each other. They held each other and wept, two teenagers kneeling in the pink petals of a cherry tree, grieving for the friend who should have been beside them.
Across the graveyard, Joycelyn and Lisa stood before a different sign: Lightning Squad. Beneath it, a single tombstone:
Herry. In memory of a true hero. Died killing a Rank 3 monster, saving the city of Mons.
Lisa knelt and placed her hand on the stone. Joycelyn uncorked a small bottle and poured liquor onto the earth.
"Still an idiot," Joycelyn muttered. "Should have waited for backup."
"Should have," Lisa agreed. She didn't move her hand from the stone.
Ken stood at the Camp 10 section, his arms wrapped around a tombstone, his shoulders shaking silently. Pan stood before the Camp 1 graves, hands clasped behind his back, saying nothing at all. Mary sat on top of a tombstone, her face turned to the sky, screaming until her voice gave out.
Lucas and Jon leaned against a cherry tree, smoking rolled tobacco leaves, watching the others in silence.
Ray walked to the Camp 12 section and stopped before a tombstone Loki hadn't noticed. The inscription was older:
Dedicated to the children who lost their lives for the good of mankind. We are proud of you. 147 AD.
"So it's been three years, Lobo."
Ray took out a knife, cut his palm, and pressed his hand against the stone. He stood there for a long moment, his blood staining the old marks, his head bowed.
The wind picked up. Cherry petals swirled around the graveyard, catching in hair and clinging to wet cheeks. Everyone grieved in their own way, in their own space, bound together by the silence.
Ray lifted his head and looked back at the group.
"Let's go," he said quietly.
By the time they reached the gate, Joycelyn was already running toward the house.
"Hey! You guys are hungry, right?" Her voice echoed across the field. "I'm cooking rice and cabbage stew!"
"I'm cooking!" Lucas sprinted after her. "Your food sucks!
"Wait!" Mary ran after them, her screaming forgotten. "I want to learn how to cook!"
Ken and Pan exchanged a look, then broke into a run. Jon followed at a jog, shaking his head but smiling. Tars and Loki, shaking their heads run after them, holding each other's hand.
Ray stood at the edge of the graveyard, watching the others race toward the green-roofed brick house.
"She always knew how to change the mood," Ray said. He had appeared beside them without a sound.
He looked at the walls surrounding the compound, at the wire glinting in the afternoon sun, at the house where laughter was already spilling out of open windows. He let out a long breath and walked toward it.