Closure

The battle with the Endsinger was over, and so was the hunt between the Prince and Warrior of Light. There, at the edge of the universe, they closely laid together in the endless sea that reflected the galaxies above, exhausted, bloodied... satisfied...

"Did you find... fulfillment?" Zenos's voice was a mere whisper, his strength waning as he lay there, moments from death.

Sachi was too weak to speak, but she managed a faint nod, her ears folded back, trying to hide the pain she was enduring. Her eyes spoke volumes, conveying everything he needed to know about the satisfaction and purpose she had discovered in their battles.

With a last surge of effort, Zenos unhooked his cloak from his battle-worn body and draped it over her. It was a silent plea, a wish for her to continue on, to live, and keep fighting.

The miqo'te was confused at the prince's gesture but couldn't give it more thought as her mind and senses were failing her, darkness slowly dragging her unconscious.

The last thing she heard was a faint beeping getting louder, the same sound of the device she had used to port the Scions back to safety, before the Endsinger could harm them.

Dynamis was an odd force that no one fully understood, fulfilling people's goals when their sacrifices were met, that much she had experienced in Ultima Thule. At her fading moments, she knew he had wished for her to live, and was ported to her comrades. There was so much she wanted to say, but no sounds came from her mouth…

Back on the Ragnarok, the Warrior of Light was teleported back, landing on the metal floor with a soft thud, her body covered in Zenos's distinctive cloak.

Immediately, she was surrounded by the Scions, who had been anxiously waiting for her return. Their expressions turned to that of horror as they witnessed the state of the woman in front them.

The Warrior of Light's condition was dire, and she was at death's doorstep. Bloodied and battered, she bore the unmistakable signs of her final battle with Zenos. No one understood how this happened since Meteion reassured them that she was close behind her.

Without hesitation, several of the Scions began tending to her wounds. They could not comprehend why she had brought Zenos' cloak with her.

At that moment, the Scions set aside their doubts. They focused on saving the life of the Warrior of Light, who had barely returned from the brink of death, carrying with her both physical and emotional scars that would linger in the days to come.

As the miqo'te slowly regained consciousness, the faces of the Scions around her were filled with relief. Tears of joy were shed, and gentle hugs were exchanged on her exhausted body. But when they attempted to remove Zenos' cloak, they were met with unexpected hostility from her.

Her weakened body couldn't hide the fierce determination that still burned within her. She clutched the crimson cloak tightly, refusing to let it go, her ears folding back to reflect her emotions.

"Don't you dare," she hissed, her voice filled with exhaustion and anger. "I won't let anyone take it from me,” she continued, trying to use her tail to wrap around her, as if it would help deter them somehow.

The Scions exchanged confused glances, unsure why Sachi was so fiercely protective of the cloak that had once belonged to their greatest enemy.

They respected her wishes and withdrew, allowing her to hold onto the garment she cherished so dearly, for some reason.

Her weakened body could only sustain the argument for so long, and her strength faded just as quickly as it came back to her, and she slipped into unconsciousness once again.

The Scions looked at each other with worried glances, for now, all they could do was watch over her and let her heal until they returned home.

The world of Etheirys was alive with celebration, the cheers of victory echoing through the streets as the return of the Ragnarok ship was a sign of success. People gathered to revel in the mission's success, their spirits lifted now that the world-ending doom was no more.

Shortly after their return the news spread fast of Zenos’ downfall, everyone affected by the fallen Prince was cheering in joy.

But where people celebrated, Sachi retreated, seeking solitude and isolation to mourn. Her injuries were a convenient excuse to distance herself from the festivities.

The death of Zenos, despite being a necessary and long-awaited triumph, had left her devastated.

Guilt quickly washed over her, wondering if she did the right thing. It gnawed deeply at her and she felt conflicted with herself.

He had been the one to ignite her passion for battle, her greatest adversary, and their complex relationship had left its mark. But it was also the loss of someone who had, in his own twisted way, brought a strange sense of purpose to her life.

Shu understood the depth of her anguish as she watched over her wife for the next few days. She knew that Sachi needed something to remember him by, a way to honor their complex history.

With a gentle and empathetic heart, Shu approached her in their home where she was retreating, offering a solution that might help her find closure.

"Sachi," Shu began, approaching the miqo’te infront of the fireplace that had been staring at embers for hours.

She gently took a seat next to her wife on the floor, and wrapped an arm around her for comfort, placing her free hand on top of the cloak that was laid over the Warrior’s lap. "I can weave his cloak into a new attire to match yours. It will require some alterations, but it will be a way to keep his memory close," she explained gently with confidence.

Sachi’s ears dropped, and she felt conflicted with the decision, her gaze fell down to the crimson cloak draped over her lap, she hesitated. It was the last remaining piece of Zenos, a man who had driven her to her limits and challenged her in ways no one else ever had. Cutting it felt like severing a connection to a part of herself that had grown alongside her adversary. It had served as both a symbol of his relentless pursuit and a source of strength for her.

The red-haired miqo'te reached out and gently placed her hand on Sachi's, her emerald eyes meeting her golden with understanding and love.

"It will be fine," Shu assured softly. "It won't erase his memory, but it will be a way for you to carry a part of him with you, always. It's a token of your shared history, the battles you've fought, and the person you've become."

Sachi's eyes softened as she took in Shu's words. Her ears perked slightly, and nodded slowly, her eyes glistening with gratitude. She knew that Shu was right, and perhaps this was the step she needed to move on.

"Thank you..." she added with a broken voice, which was all Shu needed to take the cloak and begin her delicate weaving abilities a few rooms over.

While her wife was off to work her magic, Sachi decided to curl up on the soft fur in front of the fireplace, sleeping away the lingering grief and guilt where she could.

Shu returned a few hours later and gently rose Sachi from her sleep. The miqo’te rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up from her position.

Upon the completion of the new-fashioned attire, Sachi felt tears well up in her eyes and tried to hide them with her usual stoic facade.

She gently took the new attire from her wife and inspected it with care, seeing the fine arts of weaving in every stitch. She had used Sachi's lunar gear and attached a significant portion to the bottom of the coat, extending it so it matched her height. The rest of the cloth was attached as a cloak with the same golden adornment it came with, having needed a few adjustments to accommodate her small figure.

Sachi's ears perked, and her tail swayed as she cheered up at the sight, feeling proud of her beloved wife who had gone above and beyond her expectations with her work.

The orange-haired miqo'te embraced her lover in a tight hug and proceeded to try on the gifted attire. It fit perfectly, and the cloak made her feel protected, in a way. It kept her warm, reminding her she was not alone in whatever she was going through. She felt a fire spark within her again, and felt confident with going outside again after having retreated for a few weeks now,

The Scions noticed Sachi wearing her new armor the next day, and they couldn't help but exchange disapproved looks with one another.

Sachi's defenses were immediately raised. She felt their judgment like a personal attack, their lack of understanding cutting deep into her already wounded heart. Her grief for Zenos was still raw and complicated, and she had hoped they would have understood by now.

"My little light, why do you keep your foe's attire fashioned like that?" Estinien finally spoke with disapproval in his tone, and concern etched into his features.

He couldn't comprehend why she would choose to carry a reminder of the man who had caused her so much pain. The man who would have killed her in Ghymlit Dark had he not plucked her away last second.

Sachi's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and sadness. Her voice was strained as she responded, "You don't understand, Estinien,” she paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts before continuing. “He was the only one who truly understood me, who could face me head-on without me needing to hold back. He was a challenge, an opponent who kept pushing me to become stronger. Our battles were like a dance, and he was the only partner who could keep up."

Estinien's concern deepened, and he couldn't help but wonder aloud, "Did you have feelings for him?"

Sachi was taken aback, not realizing how this may have looked from his perspective. She shook her head to deny his question. "No... He may have been a bad man, but he made me stronger, always pushing me to keep fighting until we met again. I cherished that challenge, that push to become better."

Her words left the Scions and Estinien conflicted, unable to fully understand her attachment to their enemy. They always thought her sparring sessions were enough, though they knew she always had to hold back.

The Warrior took a deep breath and tried to explain what the cloak meant to her. She looked at the Scions and her husband, her voice filled with sorrow and determination as her tail flicked.

"The cloak represents a part of my journey, a reminder of the battles I've fought, and the man who pushed me to better myself in combat. It's not about glorifying Zenos or his actions, but about acknowledging that he played a significant role in my growth. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of the struggles I've faced and the strength I've gained."

Estinien, understanding the depth of her feelings, stepped forward. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "If this is what brings you peace, my love, then you should keep the cloak. We all support you in your grief in whatever way you choose to cope with it."

The Scions all nodded in agreement. They might not fully grasp the attachment, but they recognized that it was a deeply personal matter for her. In the end, they respected her choice, understanding that everyone had their own unique ways of coping with loss and finding closure.

Sachi's heart felt a little lighter, knowing that she had the support of her loved ones, even in her unconventional way of mourning. With their understanding and acceptance, she could continue to carry the crimson cloak as a symbol of her strength and the battles she had faced, both as a Warrior of Light and as a person who had found an unexpected connection in the most unlikely places.