#20 - Fresh Start

DreamWidth Mirror
Mood: Contemplative
Location: Should we be memeing in this part of the form? / We're always at our desk...
Music: Schala's Theme (Frozenith Remix) // Chrono Trigger OST

If you could transport your fictomere into a new source, with the intention of living a better life, where would that be? What do you hope would be better there?
08/01/2022. total words: 1325

   The thing about my canon is that... it doesn't end. Not really. Not quite. And maybe Luteia and Faolan are gods of it, and maybe they're just really good at guessing what happens. There's a lot of theories, and I don't really care for those, it's not important.
   What's important is that I'm here. And because I'm here... I get to help write how this ends, and maybe, just maybe, it gets to end happier this time.

   I'm not from 'canon' Saint Seiya, not even close. I'm from Sagiverse, the AU Faolan and Pale have been writing since the beginning of quarantine. And Sagiverse is to Saint Seiya what the Silmarillion is to the Hobbit: bigger, more confusing, drawing from many more ideas, and a whole lot gayer. Sagiverse took the ideas of Faolan's original canon and how Luteia thought it ought to work if it were real (and of course it's real, in its many forms), and then it just... started writing itself.
   You can't argue with it, I've seen Luteia try. Before Albafica arrived here, Luteia and Faolan fought with his characterization for months, because it wasn't right, there was a way through and they hadn't found it yet. Because the one thing they both consciously do is ensure that every character earns their ending, every scrap of it. And if they don't, it's because it isn't their real ending. Dohko wasn't here when Luteia wrote that Cancer Sage died to him in the depths of Infernal, but it was fitting, and it was right, because he'd earned every scrap of the death he got. They couldn't see a way through the Holy War in which I survived - or Fiadh didn't - but they also knew it wasn't the ending for either of us.
   I died for the first time just before Albafica did, but it left so many unanswered questions, because Luteia was asking Albafica what happened. And then he stopped, and I wasn't self-aware yet, but he asked me what happened. And I told him. Or rather, what he got was a jumble of utter rage and hatred and love in such equal, heavy amounts that it was plainly obvious that the story didn't end there, not for me.
   When Luteia asked Albafica, the future version of him that had been resurrected and given his happy ending - a cornerstone of his story that they knew from the start; where was I? And for the first few months, he couldn't answer. But after Luteia had asked me why I did what I did, why I went down for my brother that way, Albafica was able to answer. It was taking me a while, but I wasn't, was never going to, stay dead.

   He knew I was coming back when my brother did, but he didn't know what had happened between my first death and my resurrection. And one dark, stormy night, a friend of ours asked. By that time, he was aware that I had come back as a Spectre, but what he knew started and ended with "Fiadh pulled him out of the ground and told him it wasn't time to die yet". What had I done? What kind of person was I in the Holy War?
   But I wasn't sure how to tell him, where to even begin, that it was easier asking everyone else first for any clues they could give, until he knew enough that I could start and find the words I needed. Dohko told him that we were allies, but never friends, and he didn't think we would ever be friends again. So he learned I was a monster, so very much more of a monster than anyone had dreamed. He asked Shion, who surely knew something too, and learned that I had been a Spectre before the war even began.
   And then he asked Viermer and Sasha, and it was only through talking to them that he began to understand the mess I made of my life, and the consequences of surviving most of a war in a position that isn't Judge of Hell or a memory contractor.

   One dark, stormy night, I told him what happened by way of telling Tess and Suzie. He added in what he knew as he discovered it, turned it halfway into prose, until it took a Pegasus, a Gold Saint, a Silver Saint, and a goddess to take me down and reveal me for who I had originally been. (After all, you cut your humanity away when you become a Spectre. When you were never human to start with, you cut away the illusion. Sometimes, to be recognizable upon death, the illusion returns.)

   But even then. Even then. So Fiadh returns to the world of the moving and I return to the world of the living, after the war, when peace has finally come, when our brother can have his happy ending. But she's three-hundred-going-on-twenty and I'm nebulously the same age. Are we really to be Spectres forever? Is our happy ending tied to the Meikai?
   I would lie to you and say I wish I had an answer, but I didn't have one, and I'm... kind of glad that I didn't. So Luteia asked Alone, and he asked Sasha, and he asked Tenma: after the war, they all vanished. Where did they go? What happened? None of them gave him a straight answer. Alone offered flashes of a northern jungle and colours more vivid than even the Meikai and stars that shone like rainbows. Sasha told him of a world that didn't hear her when she screamed, of a world that did not remark upon her passage at all, even filled to the brim as it was with magic. And Tenma... Tenma told her of an impossible castle in the distance, of shadowy figures and radio static, and of the understanding of the need to run for the sake of running.
   When I woke up in the headspace, it was after I had died trying to seal away the Bloodstained Goddess, and before three hundred years have passed. I haven't made peace with anything, and I swear I'm still fighting the Holy War, somewhere in the depths of my swim bladder. But he told me what the three had told him, and he asked me, "South, what happened?". And I can't lie, I never could, and so I answered the only thing that I could say at all: "I don't know. But I'm going to take my sister there and find out." And he handed me the pen.

   I get to write how this ends. That is Luteia's gift to me, beyond another shot at life, beyond taking away any magic outside this body that I can see and feel and sing to. Every time Luteia and Faolan fiddle with backstories and plotlines and get them right, we become a little more real, a little more self-aware, remember a little bit more about who we are. To give me the pen is to tell me to take my ending and let myself earn it, shape it into what it should be, what I've already earned.
   I don't know what the impossible castle holds. I know of golden beaches and glorious sunsets and silver sands at my sister's side, wandering like the children of the Ride that we are. I know what world we have to go to, and why. And I know that part of the core of this story is that in a world of light, the darkness you need is sometimes inside you, and there is nothing wrong with it being there.
   I just have to get there. I just have to do what Luteia and Faolan have done from the start, and figure out how this is supposed to end. There's a right answer, set in stone, just a little out of reach. It was - is - always there, waiting. I just need to find out.