Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You wake up with a start. Your face is pressed against the cool, damp stone below, and your breathing comes in short bursts but offers no relief. Your limbs feel heavy. Your chest feels like it's on fire. You're alive.

You're alive.

How can this be? You very distinctly remember the fight with the white-haired old man - the one from the beach; you remember him doing nothing, not even reacting in pain even as your arm was overclocked more than it's ever been before and striking him with a lightning bolt that would kill several men at once; you remember Maelle's scream of fear and anguish as she stood trapped in her bubble; you remember a sword through your chest and everything going black.

You died. You died. But somehow you're alive again. How can this be?

You glance around at your surroundings. From your angle on the ground, all you can see is the damp cave surrounding you, so you attempt to push yourself to your feet. Or, at least, you attempt to move your arms. Your right one moves after a bit of struggle, but your left one is completely unresponsive.

That's right. Your prosthetic broke after the overcharge and fell off. You wonder dimly if you can find it and repair it.

Moving your right arm up in front of you, you push yourself up more with an inaudible groan of pain, at least to get a better look at your left side. Glancing over, you're met with—

Well, that's certainly not what you expected.

You force your left arm to move. It takes a couple tries and far too much exertion than you'd like to admit, but you do manage it in the end. The sword that seemingly had been melded to where your skin ended makes an agonizing scraping noise across the stone below as you move it up. It sits at a weird angle no matter how you attempt to position it, so eventually you give up and just try to push yourself to standing with one hand. You do manage that much, at least.

While standing, your whole body feels like it's on fire from pain, radiating out from the wound through your chest like an earthquake. If you could scream right now, you would - but you find that no sound comes out of your body at all. The sword that is your left arm drags limply beside you as you touch your face with your right hand.

Or at least, what's left of your face. Your hand feels like it goes past the part where your face should start, and feeling around, you feel nothing there except the sensation of your fingers touching the back of your skull from the inside. That feeling makes you recoil, looking down at your body. You see your legs have turned into points, and—

Your chest has a hole in it. You're still wearing your clothes, despite how bloody and tattered they might be, but there is a blue spinning light emanating from the hole in your chest.

You wrack your brain, trying to remember things. Everything you've ever experienced feels so far away now. The only blue lights you recall on your journey were the journals your team came across, and in some Nevrons' bodies—

Hold up. Wait a second. This couldn't—you couldn't have—there's no way that—

Your right hand shakes with anxiety, and you clench your fingers into a fist to try and slow it. Could you have turned into a Nevron? Is that why you're suddenly alive again? Is that even possible?

You take a shuddering step forward, towards the edge of the cave, and then another. Your sword arm scrapes across the ground again with each step you take until you reach the cliff's edge, looking out onto the ocean and the horizon beyond. There's not much you can see with the sun setting to your left beyond the ocean itself and the giant Monolith ever present to the north.

Your gaze gets stuck eyeing the structure, with the sight of the Paintress at its base, and the giant glowing 33 on it almost taunting you. That damn Monolith.

When one falls, we continue.

The thought nearly makes you stumble. You have no idea how long you've been dead for, but you know your team must be somewhere up ahead, continuing towards the structure. Do you dare follow after, try to find them, to reconnect even with how you are now? Do you dare to find out if they failed, like every other Expedition before you, or if they're still trudging along with the grief they must be carrying? Do you dare? Do you dare?

...

You need to find a way to cross the ocean.

Chapter Text

Esquie must be with them, you think. That's the only way they could've gone farther. So, how else would I be able to follow?

You pace back and forth as you try to think, your coat fluttering in the breeze and your sword arm scraping against the stone with every movement you make. Eventually the din of it gets lost in the background of the waves and your thoughts.

Maybe, if you've really turned into a Nevron - which a part of you still denies is even possible - you could communicate with other ones now...? Maybe something else could give you a lift across the ocean?

It'll have to do for now. It's the only plan you have.

First, though, you have to make your way out of this cave.

With a deep breath that still somehow doesn't relieve the ache in your lungs, even temporarily, you set off towards the way you and your team came from - back towards the entrance of the cave, away from the Lampmaster's resting spot. Your legs feel delicate and somehow clunky at the same time, leaving walking a slow process, but making little noise against the stone. Your sword arm is another story - it continues to scrape across the ground as you walk, even as you attempt to hold it up while finding a comfortable position for it. You eventually just let it drag with a soundless huff. The noise from it doesn't bother you much any more.

(Now that you think of it, you haven't seen hide nor hair of the Lampmaster, even with all the noise you've been making with your awakening. Hopefully it stays that way - you don't want to face that thing again.)

You follow the distant light at the end of the tunnel. The lamps around you blink on with a soft ding as you approach, and blink off with that same noise as you walk away. At least they offer some light in the darkness, albeit not much. You stick close to the right edge of the cave, letting your one actual hand drag across the rough stone to keep your balance - and to keep you grounded to yourself, just in case. It's still a shock to find yourself alive. You're still here. Somehow.

The noise of rain patters against the stone walkway as you come near the entrance. Has it always been raining here? Has the rain ever even let up here? You try to think back, but the details are hazy now...

You figure it's always rained here, constantly, a soft downpour forever dampening the mood. At least the water dampens the sound of you approaching.

You exit the cave. The dim light of sunset doesn't help you to see your surroundings better, but at least it's easier to adjust to this from the darkness of the cave than it would be if it was blindingly bright. The thought of the setting sun brings you back - to your team, resting at camp, thinking about the previous day's events, chatting amongst themselves, how they must be grieving for you, how they probably even wouldn't recognize you if you showed back up—

You shake your head to get rid of the thoughts. No, Gustave, you have a mission to accomplish. You can't falter now. You're alive, you're moving, you need to keep going.

When one falls, we continue.

You make your way along the cliff's precipice. The rain splashes up against your legs and arm as you walk, splattering against the hem of your coat and torn edges of your pants. You don't see any Nevrons around so far - maybe they've all cleared out at this point? You vaguely remember your team basically wiping out the area before getting to the Lampmaster, but you also remember each time you backtracked, they seem to have reappeared.

Hm. That's a thought you tuck away for later.

You come to the edge of the cliff face, looking across the gap separating you from the rest of the area. You spot the grapple hooks Expedition 70 installed along the cliff's rocky side, and briefly, you wonder if your grapple pictos still works. It was worth a shot, wasn't it? Otherwise you would have no way to get across this gap without falling - the jump is too far, and you're sure you wouldn't be able to climb up the edge with a single real arm.

You raise your right hand, trying to summon the energy that lay in your core. The familiar blue-black chroma surrounds it, circling your skin - and you notice at the same time your arm is wrapped in what looks like three gold bands that have seemingly grown into the skin itself. If you could blink, you would - is this the manifestation of your chroma as a Nevron?

That's not what's important now, though. What's important is that it's working.

You reach out towards the grapple point, chroma flowing around your skin. You take a breath, bracing yourself, and start running with your new pointed legs towards the edge. The chroma around your arm reaches out towards the grapple point, pulling you along with a force you are incredibly familiar with yet also makes your gut lurch at the same time. You soar through the air for a brief moment, doing your usual spin in midair as is basically muscle memory, skidding to a stop on the other side of the rocks when you land.

Huh. You take another good look at yourself. Maybe you're getting used to being in your body again. Or - whatever this new body is for you. Is it even new?

You shake your head. Again, not important. You need to keep moving.

You shake off the feeling of vertigo from your body before continuing in the direction where you came from. It's easy to get lost here, but for some reason, you seem to have an innate knowledge of the layout of this place - something you know you did not have when you were first alive.

Your feet and sword arm scrape across the ground as you enter another cave. The darkness is overwhelming, especially with the little lamp you used to carry around with you now gone. You stick to the right again, this time with no wall to keep you grounded, skirting around the Nevrons you know are back in the area now. You figure, with these Nevrons down in this cave, none of them would be of any help to you. They probably haven't even seen the light of day, let alone know how to swim. In turn, they pay you no mind. One of the Greatsword Cultists that you almost bump into barely even turns its head when you pass.

You eventually find a rope leading up towards the entrance of the cave. With the same motions as you took with the grapple, you reach up with your right hand towards the rope, watching as the chroma surrounds your arm when you grab onto it, and you are yanked upwards to the top of the cave. Getting out of here is easier now - you can see the light at the end of the tunnel - and you follow it, eventually breaking out into the outskirts of the old farm.

That white Hexga is still there. You remember helping it when you were alive the first time. You wonder, faintly, if it'll recognize you. Probably not. You simply drag your way around behind it.

The Hexga shudders as it moves, turning around to face you. The noise of its massive crystalline body makes you freeze dead in your tracks, staring up at it like a deer in headlights. It looks over you once, twice, before speaking, its breath heavy in its body.

"You. Human." It pauses for a second. "No. Not a human."

You tilt your head to the side, questioning.

"Not a human anymore." It steps closer to you once, and you step back instinctively, your sword arm once again making that awful scraping noise as it drags. "I remember you. You helped find the crystals that make me shine." It pauses once more. "What happened to you?"

So it does recognize you. You open your mouth to speak - or at least, attempt to move the muscles you know you used to have that would've opened your mouth - but your face does not move, does not change, does not even so much as flicker with any sort of motion. At this, you reach up with your right hand and touch the side of your cheek. It almost feels like there's a jagged edge there, opening into a blank space where your face used to be. Kind of like the Curator's face. Er, "face".

You try to speak again, but no sound comes out, no breath comes out, nothing. You drop your hand and turn your head to the side, almost shamefully. The Hexga shifts a bit, stepping closer to you, closing the gap between you and it easily. Its imposing body looms over you, moving slightly with the breaths it takes. A twinge of jealousy prods its way through the pain in your chest. You haven't been able to take a proper breath since you woke up.

"You feel like me, now," it continues. "You look like one of us. One of her creations."

That one sentence shoots something more than just jealousy through your chest. The Nevron recognizes you. It recognizes who you were, and who - what - you are now. One of her creations.

One of the Paintress's creations.

You almost double over in anguish right there as the blue light around your chest seems to glow brighter, but you manage to stand your ground, staring back up at the Hexga. If it can still talk to you, you need to find a way to communicate with it back. You need to let it know that you're still you, you're still who you once were - and that you need to find a way back to your team.

Your sword arm clinks against the stone below - the stone slowly giving way to dirt in the distance - and that gives you an idea. You stand up straighter than before, motioning for the Hexga to follow you as you start off in the direction you were just heading. Your pointed feet clink against the stone for just a bit longer as you walk, the Hexga's slow, lumbering steps shaking the ground slightly as it follows.

You eventually come up to a soft patch of dirt with no grass. You gesture for the Hexga to watch as you stretch your sword arm as best as you can, starting to scrape things into the dirt. You don't opt for words, doubting it knows how to read, and instead settling for symbols you hope it would understand. The Hexga watches, intrigued.

You draw a crude stick figure first, pointing at it with your right hand and then back to yourself. Next you draw an X to the side of the stick figure, and then a short wave after that, looking back up at the Hexga. It stares at the drawings almost blankly, so you attempt to motion with your right hand again what you mean. Figure, point towards yourself, cross, make a motion signaling the horizon, ocean, make a waving motion with your arm.

Something seems to click in the Hexga's mind as it shifts slightly. "You need to cross the ocean?"

You nod rapidly.

"I have met other humans who have crossed the ocean," it muses. "Not all of them were friendly. However, I doubt any of the others here can do so." It falls silent for a moment, seeming to think to itself. "I have heard stories of others like me who can cross the sea, though. Your best bet would be in the Flying Waters, to the south of here." It gestures in that direction. "I'm sure they'll be able to help more."

You attempt to say 'merci' in response, but pause when you remember you have no mouth anymore, instead opting to bow deeply. The Hexga gives a huff of approval, turning away to return to its perch. You turn in the opposite direction, starting off on your trek again.

From what you remember, Flying Waters is a long way out south, away from the Monolith. But the Nevron has a point - they're all ocean-based there, at least one of them would be able to carry you across the sea. Or at the very least, you'd be able to make a crude raft from broken pieces of Expedition ships and carry yourself back in the right direction.

It's the start of a plan. It's something beyond just wandering aimlessly.

Tomorrow comes.

You steel yourself for the long journey ahead.

Chapter Text

It'll be a few days and nights before you reach the Flying Waters.

The area is still as hauntingly beautiful as you remember, especially coming in the back way. You find yourself standing among the flowers, watching them as they sway in the water, with its one red rose in the center. The flower brings back memories of your team, of your home in Lumière, of...

...of Sophie.

You barely even remember her voice now, barely even remember what she looked like. It's all a blur after everything you've been through. But you do remember her. And as with everything, she's long gone by now. Gommaged away into those petals that happen every year. How everyone made a sort of party out of it, despite the somberness of the occasion. How you never even got to say to her what you wanted to say, even though you're sure she knew anyway...

You have to stop yourself from breaking down right there. No, Gustave—now is not the time to reminisce. You have a mission to achieve, you have a team to find - you have a city to save.

You pause here for longer than you probably should. Time is ticking away, and you don't have much more to lose. You steel yourself, summoning the courage within you to keep dragging on, despite the lingering exhaustion in your bones. You've learned that you don't really need sleep at this point—or to eat, or drink, or anything that humans needed to stay alive - but you're not sure how else you'd be able to relinquish the feelings. So, you carry on.

You take a break to the left, off the beaten path, and walk among the coral and kelp. While you were trying to find your way back here, you remembered something you did back when you were alive—another white Nevron you and your team helped. The small Bourgeon. You never did come back to it after feeding it the skin of its slain brethren, so you figure now you've given it enough time to finally grow. Hopefully, even if it can't swim, it'll be tall enough to carry you across the water.

After a bit of walking, you push some tall reeds out of the way and step into another clearing. You spot Expedition 53's flag still waving proudly at the entrance of the area, laying the trail for those who come after. A checkpoint, of sorts, or a marker, reminding you of what you need to do still. Glancing around, you see the small Bourgeon. Well, not small anymore. It sure has grown taller, its drooping head towering over the reeds above, staring up towards the sky as best as it can. It seems to still be looking for its Mistress, perhaps.

You step closer, your sword arm leaving a trail in the soft dirt and silt below as it drags beside you. It doesn't pay you any mind, even as you step up to its pointed feet, so you lift your right hand and gently tap its leg to get its attention.

It turns its head down towards you, water dripping from its massive mouth. "Oh...human." It tilts its head. "...Not human?"

There's that now-familiar ache in your chest when it says that. Longing, maybe? Grief? You're not sure. Either way, you gesture to get its attention down closer to you, and when it moves down close enough to see, you start drawing symbols in the ground just like you did with the white Hexga. Stick figure, cross, wave, with the same motions with your real arm as you did before.

"You...cross...ocean." It pauses for just a second. "Why?"

If you had eyes anymore, you would blink in surprise. You're not sure why you never considered them asking why you needed to do what you do, so it catches you off guard. Thinking for a moment, you turn back to drawing in the dirt, sketching out an extremely crude rendition of the Monolith, complete with the number 33 right in the middle. For this gesture, you simply point north towards the sky, past the reeds and kelp floating high above you.

The Bourgeon takes a second before speaking again. "You...want...the Regent?"

The Regent? That also catches you off guard. You thought you understood before that its Mistress was the Paintress, but then who would be the Regent? Especially if it was someone at the Monolith?

You cross your arms best you can out of habit, thinking to yourself once more. You deduce the Paintress must be the Regent, whereas its Mistress is someone else. Someone you've never heard of, perhaps. Who created the Nevrons, then, if it wasn't the Paintress?

That's a thought you tuck away for later, alongside everything else you've been learning since you woke back up. Turning back to the Bourgeon, you nod to show agreement before pointing at it, then back at yourself, and then making the wave motion again. You sincerely hope it understands what you're trying to say here.

"Want...me...carry you. Across...ocean. To...the Regent." The Bourgeon makes a noise similar to a mix of a hum and a sigh. "Maybe. Not...big enough...but...can try."

You bow once in gratitude. It reaches down with one of its too-long arms and massive hands, resting it gently on the ground in front of you. You take a moment to wipe the dirt from your sword arm before stepping up onto its hand, and it lifts you up high onto its shoulder. From here, you can just barely see above the waves of kelp, with the Monolith's tip peeking over the edge of the horizon in the distance. The Bourgeon gives a heaving sigh before starting to move north. You settle in the crook of its neck, preparing yourself for another long journey ahead—and also grateful that you do not have to walk more for right now, despite not needing to sleep anymore.

You close your eyes, letting the slow, lumbering movements of the Bourgeon's steps lull you into a more relaxed state for now.

You don't know how long you doze for. You only vaguely remember "waking" periodically to check up on the Bourgeon—once as it reached the edge of the water at Stone Wave Cliffs, once as it was waist-deep in the ocean east of the Costal Cave, and once as it was breaking the coral just past Old Lumière's north entrance. This last point is where it wakes you up, gently prodding your small body to get your attention.

It must have been at least a few days since this leg of the journey started, if not longer. It doesn't take long for you to come to focus, attempting to stretch to get the ache out of your bones—which, by the way, doesn't do much at all—while the Bourgeon speaks.

"Water...too deep," it sighs. "Can't go...any farther."

You would frown if you could, awkwardly crossing your arms from where you sit on its shoulder. Well, that won't do. How else will you be able to get to the Monolith now? You push yourself to your feet on its shoulder, motioning for it to set you down on the shore. It does so, wading out of the water and lowering its body enough for you to jump off and land safely on the ground.

You turn your gaze towards the Monolith. Immediately, you notice something is off. The number on its face is missing—as is the looming form of the Paintress.

The Paintress is gone?!

You have to take a few moments to yourself, staring at the blank structure in the distance. The Bourgeon doesn't seem to notice how lost in thought you are. Hang on, wait—if the Paintress is gone, and the number is gone too, that must mean...

They did it. Your team must've been successful.

You feel pride unfurl in your chest, with a pang of jealousy soon after. They did it—without you. It's bittersweet thinking about it. You're sure they're back at Lumière now, celebrating with the rest of the population, as well as grieving everyone who gave their lives to lay the trail for them. Grieving you, as well—hopefully.

You don't notice a large figure approaching overhead from the south. You do notice, however, a loud "wheeeeee!" from a ways behind you, making your head snap back towards the sound of the voice. If your face had any way of showing emotion, it would brighten up instantly—its Esquie, soaring down directly towards you. He lands with a flop into the water before you and the Bourgeon, peeking his head up to look at you. "Hello, mon ami!" he says in his familiar slow tone. "You're alive! You've changed, too!"

There's so much you wish you could say, so much you wish you could tell him. Instead, you find yourself circling in the sand a bit, thinking of what to even start with. At least Esquie recognized you right off the bat, so that's less to try and explain.

After a bit, you dig your sword arm into the sand, starting to draw more crude images in order to try and communicate. You draw a picture of the Monolith. Next to that, you draw several stick figures, and the number 33 next to them with an arrow pointing to the stick figures, followed by a question mark.

Esquie looks over at the drawings when you gesture for him to watch, and he gives a hearty laugh. "Your friends, yes? They made it! But now they're all 'whooo' because of Maelle. But now that you're back, they'll be all happy again!"

Maelle. You freeze in place. Something happened to Maelle?

You gesture almost wildly at the question mark again, trying to ask what happened. Esquie doesn't seem to understand, tilting his head. "Can you not talk anymore, friend?"

Internally, you make a noise of frustration, before you realize Esquie can probably also read words instead of having to rely on pictures. You take your sword arm again and write, very slowly, into the sand: is Maelle okay?

"Oh, Maelle is fine!" Esquie answers cheerfully.

Oh, thank gods. You internally breathe a sigh of relief.

"She's at the Monolith, if you would like to visit!"

Oh no.

Your heart drops into the pit of your stomach as your thoughts begin to race. Why is Maelle at the Monolith? Is she alone? Is she safe? What happened while I was missing? How long was I dead for? What—

Esquie keeps prattling on. "I was on my way to go get Verso, but he can wait a bit longer, if you would like to visit!"

—Who's Verso?

Shoving that thought out of your head, you nod rapidly, almost fast enough to give yourself a headache. Esquie gestures for you to climb on top of him, which you do—before pausing, turning back to the Bourgeon. You give it a wave to say thank you and goodbye. It takes a second before giving you a slow wave back.

You turn back to Esquie, trying to find a comfortable spot on his back. "Hang on tight!" he says, and you grasp at the fabric of his clothes with your right hand as he starts to swim towards the Monolith.

Your thoughts are still racing as you glance back briefly, the rest of the Continent slowly being left behind as Esquie traverses the ocean. You think of your team, of what Esquie said, of Maelle.

You hope, to everything that is good and holy, that Maelle is alright.