Rush into the night (sbi)

Epilogue

  (Hello lovely humans!!! The next chapter is the story ———- has just read to Tommy. Go to end of this please for a special note)

The book slammed shut with a thud awakening me from my trance. This meaning within the book was a sign you could only hope to ignore. This story was blessed with a captivating lore and an even more powerful moral: make your own changes.

  I've been compared all my life to this fallen hero, but now more than ever will I face that triumph. People expect to see me as a hero, Tommy, son of Philza, the hero Perseus or maybe Theseus.

   I want to carve my own story. Things as small as childhood names don't make my whole life. So still I seem to find it funny. This story is true to me, yet I find myself conflicted.

    My dream is to be the hero, isn't it? I've been torn from each step since the beginning. The villain needed someone to save them, and I denied that right. I believed that what I was doing was the correct thing to do. I never thought about being wrong, just about how it made me feel.

   Tubbo doesn't deserve to die; he was making a decision. Things like that are difficult, so why would I pressure him into even more mistakes? I know what it's like to never forgive someone and how much you'll regret it, so why didn't I see it from the start?

    The exile was always to protect me, but by leaving, I ruined everything. Dream never wanted to be the villain; he just didn't want to be alone. This is an assumption that I may never confirm, but the proof continues to pile up. Stacks of it lie restlessly in my mind, waiting for me to wake up and seize the opportunity to share. For some reason, I just never do.

     No matter how hard I try, it's like they never stop. Thoughts of my failures and misfortune follow me to the ends of earth. Things I can never quite understand at my age ring in my ears during explosions sounded not for blood, but for victory.

    A man who dedicated his life to my protection lies in prison for crimes motivated by love. He spent everything he had, friendships, parents, even items, to make sure I'd stay out of trouble. He even supplied me with items from time to time.

  It feels that in the given moment, this man carved my world. If I go anywhere, I've always felt like I needed someone's approval, but now, I know whose. When I was exiled, it was for my wrongdoings. There were many of those.

   He encouraged my only friend to send me away, to exile me from the land we created side by side, hand in hand. Now that I can think logically, this act was just one of many laid down into his master plan to protect me.

    This man who I'd feared my whole life was saving me from the wrath and fury resting inside the man once known as King George. Upon being dethroned, another hypothesis I can make is that he was angered, and he was the wrongdoing that got me exiled.

   I never had to destroy his house with someone I once called my friend, all I needed was a simple bucket of water.  However, I went too far. There is a lesson to be learned, and I've taken it well. He lost everything and I continuously tortured George. During moments when he'd much rather sulk, he would have to defend, defend his dignity from the sixteen-year-old who had no interest in him.

    Can you help not being sorry, though? The burden of what I've done would crush me just as a rock slide or avalanche. I would be squashed to nothing beneath the pressure of it all. Should I attempt to bear this, or leave it to diaries and books for me to pour emotions into?

    Sadly, those things are cups, and what you can put in there is measurable. Could I allow others to support me? Lay their hands beneath my shoulder and push me up to the surface, preventing me from drowning in guilt. Guilt would melt away in the warmth of their arms. A candle whose wax drips away until it's nothing.

   Just as my family, I am something as well. Heroes are crystal clear. They either hold together well and strong as a diamond, or break off into tiny pieces as if limestone dropped from a small height. You have to have the heart of a hero to be one, and that's what I've lacked.

    From now on, it's over. I'll strive to adjust and conquer my wrongs, turning them to rights. My strength will finally protect those who put my needs in front of theirs. The heroine of this can finally be me. That is my goal.

(Hello again lively humans. Thanks for all the support and yesssss there is going to be a sequel. Tommy trusts Dream and returns him. Dream will destroy Tommy's wings and Tommy will think Phil will hate him. The whole story is centered around how Tommy seeks approval from Phil but he feels Phil only loved him for his wings.) 

(Put and writing suggestions you want here, I'll be writing books specifically for people)