A spark in the dark, Epilogue

Orion arrived at the top of the mound of loose soil and stopped. Where once stretched a huge park of vegetation, the ground had been dug out by a powerful cabal bomb. The volume of land that had been lifted was so huge that the works planned for this area were more to rebuild inside the hole than to fill it.

The boy sighed. However, there was still so much to do in the City that this crater would probably remain empty for another century. He kicked at a stone and stared at it until he lost sight of it in the dizzying rim.

"You shouldn't get so close to the edge," said a female voice behind his back.

"You'd catch me." Orion turned and discovered a Warlock, wearing her armor and accompanied by a Ghost with shining tips. "Hi, Zara!"

"Hi, kid." The Guardian looked around. "Your friends told me I could find you here. What are you doing in this wasteland?"

"I used to come here often." The boy pointed to the crater and his fingers wiggled, drawing imaginary lines. "A river was passing here. It went almost from one end of the park to the other and ran through three small lakes before flowing into the big one over there. At one point, the river was making a big, tight loop, and it was like a little island in the crook of the bend. There was a tree on the island. My father loved to take me there."

He sighed, "And now it's all gone."

Zara stepped forward at his side. "The Domain is bordered by an immense lake. I could take you there for a tour."

Orion shook his head. "My mother would never let me leave the Wall. Not with what's lurking outside..."

He invited her to sit on the upturned earth, their legs resting on the crater side. The Ghost seemed to whisper something to its Guardian, too low for Orion to hear.

"And your father, what is he doing?"

"He disappeared during the attack."

"Oh... Sorry."

"It's okay. It's been three years now." The boy threw a new stone. "This is the Festival of the Lost. Since this was his favorite place, I come back here every year waiting for them to rebuild it."

The boy bent his legs and crossed his arms on his knees. Despite his bold words, his gaze was veiled by grief.

"You Guardians can wait as long as you want. What's it like to live several centuries?"

The Warlock pondered for a moment and took a look at her Ghost. "At first, it's complicated. Most of us are brought back to life as adults, and we don't have the time of childhood to learn everything. Some of us spend several years in the City, training before going to fight outside the Wall. Others have to fight from their first breath."

"What about you?"

"I've been fighting from the beginning. Not against the Fallen, simply against the elements. And then there were the Six Fronts, the Burning Lake, the Great Disaster, the Twilight Gap..."

"... The Red War." His gaze darkened. "The Pyramids."

"And there will be many more. After a while you get used to it. It doesn't get any easier, the challenge just changes its position."

"I don't understand."

"When you have spent centuries fighting the Fallen, if some decide to become friendly, how can you forgive their past actions? It's a privilege that 'normal' people have: When one generation follows another, old conflicts can be buried to write a new page."

"I see." Orion smiled. "There's got to be something more than you demigods!"

"You have a lot more than you think. It's one of the things you realize when you're immortal."

"If you say so..."

At the edge of the huge cavity, the wind was blowing hard. The boy shivered and cleared his throat to break the silence.

"Uh, Zara. No offense, but why did you take the time to come and see me? I'm not the most interesting person in the City..."

"You're the only one who offered me a snow globe."

Orion's gaze lit up. "Did you find it?"

"I couldn't miss it. It would be very rude of me not to thank you for such a gift. Koryl?"

The Warlock reached out her hands, and the Ghost transmatted a large suitcase, almost as tall as the boy. It was packaged in gift wrap paper in the colors of Crimson Days.

"It's not the packaging I asked Banshee for, but his memory isn't what it used to be." She handed it to him. "It's for you."

He eagerly grabbed the suitcase and ripped up the colored paper. Inside, protected by a foam padding, was a magnificent compound bow.

Subdued, Orion caressed the frame of the weapon, set with finely chiseled snow-white protective shells.

"Some pieces come from the Reef. Our gunsmith helped me build the rest. At the moment, you'll have trouble stretching the rope, but I've included several power settings. In a few years, when you get familiar with its weight, you will be able to use it. That said, try to find an expert before you start training on your own."

"It's..." The boy could no longer find the words. "Wow!"

Koryl watched the scene from the Guardian's shoulder. He seemed as delighted as he was.

"Is it true? Can I really keep it?"

"It is yours. Take care of it. Remember when I told you that every weapon has its own story?"

He nodded.

"This one has none. It is up to you to write it. Stories endure the passage of time. They become legends, then myths. By your choices and actions, in a way, you can become immortal. Not unlike a Guardian."

Orion took the weapon out of its case. He weighed it, contemplated it from all angles.

"I'll be there when they replant the tree by the river."

"And I will be at your side. Your destiny is yours alone. All you have to do is decide when to start a new chapter."