Melody of the Holoverse

Episode 8: Hero

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Noticeable, but not disruptive. Pleasant, even.

My boat rocks gently atop the endless lake, the waves subtle as their whispers play like a serene orchestra.

Before me, the grand serpent delivers her gaze.

"Was this what you meant?" I ask. "About my destiny?"

"This outcome was one of many possibilities," she says. "It is, however, that which I had most desired. You are proving yourself to be a worthy candidate, despite my peers believing otherwise."

"Does it get easier? This path."

"No. You've only passed the first stepping stone, and a minute one, at that. There are still many hurdles for you to overcome, many mountains to be conquered. Although you have claimed your first victory, you are still but a fledgling in this ever-expanding battleground."

I stare into the water.

I didn't ask for this. I want to go back to how things were. I want to sip tea with Grandpa. I want to buy candy from Mr. Docket's shop.

I want to be with Old Grove.

But the beginning is set in stone, no matter how much I cry about it. Yesterday is gone, so I can only worry about tomorrow.

"Keep your composure, child," the serpent implores. "Do not falter. Although the road may seem arduous, I do believe you have the fortitude to become she who conquers. Observe. Adapt. Overcome."

"I know." My resolve echoes to the highest moons. "I'll reach the ending I want."

She observes my unbreakable will, pleased.

"I have high hopes for you, Violet Newcastle."

The gears in her eyes spin, and as the mist thickens, I wake up.

* * *

Fatigue in every sense of the word, as if I was forced to control a dead man's body. Pair that with my clustered senses and I wanted to fall right back to sleep. Instead, I lifted my leaden eyelids to stare up at a wooden ceiling.

Everything hurt—every breath, every twitch. It felt like needles jabbed into my ribcage with each exhale.

But with each ache, the conclusion grew clear.

I'm alive.

I lay in Miss Lovelock's bed, presumably in her room, the luminance thin as the sun's rays hugged the blinds. Thick gauze had been wrapped around the upper half of my head. And as I sat up, I understood why, slammed with the meanest of headaches.

I think I'd rather be dead.

But I didn't think she would like that—the little rose sitting at my bedside. She squeezed my hand tight, fast asleep as stains painted the edges of her eyes. Nonstop crying.

I smiled, and with my free hand did I lovingly stroke her hair.

From now on, you won't have to be afraid anymore. You'll get to be as happy as you'd like.

Even though my lips stayed still, she heard the message loud and clear, waking from her garden of dreams.

Her jaw dropped as she met my eyes.