The Elementiels

Ch. 13: THE PRINCESS OF ART

They finally arrived at the bakery. Grandpa Mark glanced at Jason, his brow furrowed with concern. “How about dinner? I’ll whip up your favorite soup.”

Jason shook his head, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. “Thanks, Grandpa, but… I need some time to myself. I’ll be in my room.”

Without waiting for a reply, he trudged upstairs, his footsteps slow and deliberate. Grandpa Mark watched him disappear, a sigh escaping his lips. He shuffled toward the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans a faint comfort as he tried to make sense of the day’s events.

Upstairs, Jason sat on the edge of his bed, his face buried in his hands. The quiet of his room did little to silence the echoes of screams and the weight of lives lost. The faces of those he couldn’t save swam in his mind.

Minutes stretched into an hour before he finally forced himself to stand. He needed air—or maybe distraction. Anything to pull him from the spiral of regret.

When he descended the stairs, however, he froze. The bakery was filled with people, their presence a hum of energy that jolted him from his thoughts. “What… what’s going on?” Jason asked, his voice thick with confusion.

From the crowd, Miss Claire stepped forward, her expression a mixture of warmth and sorrow. She enveloped him in a hug and said “We know, Jason. We know what you did today. You saved us. If it weren’t for you, most of us wouldn’t be here.”

Jason stiffened, his arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. “But… people died.” He whispered, his throat tightening. “I couldn’t save everyone.”

Boris, a towering figure with a rough demeanor but kind eyes, approached and rested a heavy hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Aye, that’s true, lad. But no one could have. What matters is that you stood tall when we needed you most. You gave everything you had, and we’re all here because of that.”

Jason’s gaze dropped, his hands clenching into fists. The murmurs of agreement from the crowd only deepened the ache in his chest.

He walked outside the door and found more people gathered, his face filled with shocked by the numbers.

Before he could say a word, a young woman came out of the crowd, holding the hand of a small girl. Her eyes found Jason, brimming with tears.

“You saved my daughter!” She said, her voice breaking. “When the building came down, you pulled her out. I’ll never forget that, Jason. Never.”

The little girl let go of her mother’s hand and walked up to him. Without a word, she wrapped her small arms around his waist. Jason hesitated, overwhelmed, but eventually bent down and hugged her back. A small, uncertain smile broke across his face as the crowd erupted into applause.

“Thank you.” Jason said, his voice hoarse but filled with conviction. He looked out at the faces of his neighbors, his friends, the people he’d fought to protect. "I mean it. I’m grateful. I promise… I’ll become stronger, for you all!”

Boris stepped forward, his voice booming as he raised his arm. “Our kingdom may be battered. Some of our loved ones are gone, and the scars of today will remain. But we are Camelot! We rebuild! We endure! We overcome!!!”

A cheer rose from the crowd, a symphony of resilience and hope. Jason stood, stunned, as the townspeople lifted him onto their shoulders. He laughed, a sound that felt foreign yet freeing.

“To the bar!” Boris declared, his voice carrying over the cheers.

Grandpa Mark cupped his hands around his mouth and called out, “Hey! Take it easy with him, Boris!”