First Love, First War, First Step |√|

Revolutionist

Those first few days, it was hard to imagine that the rebellion that I had devoted my life to, that my parents had devoted their lives to, was over.

It hadn't come without cost though, and I remembered that all too acutely when I read the history that the remaining Archivists had begun to write.

Everyone wanted me to help lead the new government of Cineres, but I refused.  I had spent too much time in the limelight, had lost too much to this cause, to want to be involved in such an authority.

My last public act was to pardon Meara for all her treacherous acts.  After that, when I attended the funeral for Ilania, I was nothing more than another freed citizen.

The day we buried Luke's wife, as we later found out she was, the sky poured out all its gloomy grief.  Its tears watered the ground in which she now rested, next to the man she had loved enough to follow into death.

I had to struggle past the grief of losing another comrade, another friend, and there were moments when I wondered if it would be better if my body was planted in the ground next to theirs.

Andie, despite all her dreams of becoming a marker, returned to the farm where her family had lived beside Diane's for years.  She confided in me that the soil was easier to be around than the people who all wanted to hear her role in the Igniters.

Diane, in contrast, took office as what our ancestors had called a "president" as we found out from the Archives, mostly from documents Ilania had dug up before she had died.  Despite the fact that I told her I wanted no part in the government, she insisted that I was to advise her whenever possible.

One of her first actions as president was to establish a permanent memorial to those who had died for the rebellion, to warn future generations of the cost of taking the same path.

The farm girl had come a long way since the first day I had met her.

Meara, by comparison, faded relatively into the background.  She refused Diane's offer to head the new Enforcement and chose instead to move into her childhood home, taking up painting.

Apparently, Ilania had also directed her to her niece moments before she died, and there the two of them lived as best as they could with one being a parentless child and the other a guilt-ridden adult.

I hadn't done anything besides roam the Archives, looking for ways to prevent the past from becoming the future and realizing that the only way to do that was to teach the next generation about past mistakes.

Even though I was no teacher, my lectures were surprisingly popular even if half of the people were there to gawk, rather than learn.  I was quite content with my schedule: teaching, going to the Archives, going home, and visiting the graves of those who had given their lives.

Every time I saw Luke's grave with Ilania's beside him, I was pleased to find that Meara had been a frequent visitor as well.  Even if it was only the two of us coming to see them, it would mean that they would be kept alive.

I knew she felt guilty and responsible for her brother's death, but I knew that she was not to carry all the blame.  One day, I would tell her my role in Luke's death, much like I told Ilania, but for now, I carefully kept it hidden away, believing the wounds to still be too fresh.

Maybe our world wasn't perfect, but at least, we saw the flaws in a system trying to please everyone.  Diane did her best to keep everyone as happy as possible, and I lent advice as often as she badgered me to do so.

The people who believed that they had created the perfect society, our ancestors, had named our country, Cineres.

It was not for how their normal lives ended in a blaze of fire, but for the way that they managed to pick through the rubble and the ashes, finding a way to live.

I don't believe that their motto was truly applicable to their descendants until after the war.

Then we understood what they had meant when they said, "From the ashes, we rise."

Much like their world had ended in flames, the society that they had built was taken down by a young woman and a bomb. 

Maybe they would be pleased to see that we were trying to bring their world back to its former state, but maybe they would believe that we were breaking it even more.

Even so, I never regret what the Igniters did, though I wish it had had a different conclusion.  I only hope that my dead comrades and those who are still living will be forever known as heroes who sacrificed all they could to better a shattered society.