Chapter 34: A Song for the Lost
"Your name... it's Levi?"
The words hung between them, fragile as glass.
Edmond and Rufus went still. The desert wind carried only silence. Such a simple question—yet it cracked through the moment like a fault line.
Levi swallowed. His voice felt small.
"Yeah… that's my name."
Her eyes, once bonfires, were just smoldering coals now—dimming, cooling. But for the first time, she truly saw him. Not Michael. Not a phantom. Not a nightmare. Just him.
She glanced down at her ruined hands—one gone, the other barely more than a sparking stub. Then, she lifted her gaze again.
"Levi… I know this will seem odd. But may I ask a favor?"
The question stunned him.
He knew what she'd done. He knew the lives she'd taken. But he also knew what had been done to her. And now, what he had done.
He stepped forward, the blade in his elbow retracting with a hiss.
"Ms. Darrow, I—I don't know if I can help anyone."
His throat felt tight.
"But we need to get you—"
"Darrow… Eliza Darrow."
A breath of a laugh passed her lips.
"How strange..."
Her body buckled.
Levi lurched forward, reaching for her, but she caught herself on her knees.
"You need help. We can—we can get you—"
"Sweet boy."
Her voice was soft, almost fond.
"I think we both know there's no time."
Levi's chest squeezed. He turned, desperation rising in his throat.
"I'll run ahead! You two help her! I'll get a cart and—"
But neither Rufus nor Edmond moved.
He looked at them, frantic. But they just stared at him. Not cold, not cruel—but with something heavier. Something unbearable.
His chest seized.
"We gotta help her! We did this! She didn't—"
A firm hand landed on his shoulder.
Levi turned sharply, but Edmond's eyes locked onto his—unyielding and final.
"Listen to what she has to say."
His grip tightened.
"She's lost too much blood."
Cold. It seeped into his bones, sinking deeper than the desert night ever could.
He knew he was getting heated, losing his grip. But Edmond's words had cut through the noise. Sobered him.
She wasn't going to make it.
He knew that.
And he knew his outburst hadn't been for her—it had been for himself.
His fists curled, nails biting into his palms. He pulled away from Edmond's grip and turned back to her. But for some reason, he couldn't meet her eyes.
"...I'll do your favor. If I can."
She smiled. Small and cracked, barely there.
Rufus looked away. He hated moments like this. Something like that—something pure—didn't need the likes of him gawking at it.
Eliza's gaze drifted over Levi's arm, the dull glow of his Vaporguard catching in her lifeless eyes.
"How old are you?"
"Fifteen."
Silence.
Levi frowned. His fingers twitched. She wasn't responding.
So he had to look.
And when he did, the breath left his chest.
She was crying.
Tears trailed through the dirt and dried blood caking her face. Her tortured eyes—eyes that had only ever burned with rage, with madness—cried for him.
"I'm glad to see you found help. That night, when you first came… you were in so much pain. I could tell. You were like me. They hurt you too, didn't they?"
His jaw clenched.
His chest burned.
His mouth was dry.
He didn't know how to respond. He couldn't.
Luckily, Rufus always had something to say.
"Sorry, lady. Aside from the beginnin', Levi's story's gonna play out much different. He ain't like you. No offense."
A small, breathless laugh.
"You're right. He's nothing like me..."
But the thought didn't leave Levi completely. Looking at her—Crimson Song—he wondered, Was this the fate of all Wasters?
Her breath shook. Her lips parted.
"Forgive me… but can I ask a favor?"
Levi blinked. Confused.
Hadn't she just—?
Rufus and Edmond tensed.
"...Y-yeah. I'll do what I can."
Levi stepped forward.
She was swaying. Barely holding herself upright.
"Will you listen to me sing?"
Her voice wavered, barely above a whisper.
"Please? I just—"
She coughed. Blood burst from her lips as her body crumpled.
"Hey!"
Levi lunged, catching her before she hit the dirt.
"Just stay still! We gotta stop the bleeding!"
His fingers fumbled, yanking his sleeve, tearing the fabric. He pressed it to her wrist, tying it tight. Too tight.
"Michael?"
Her voice was weak.
"Just stay still. You're gonna be okay. They helped me. They can help you."
"Michael…"
Her lips trembled.
"Can I sing for you?"
"There's no time for that!"
His voice cracked.
"Just—!"
"Listen to her."
Edmond stood over them, sabers sheathed. His voice was quiet, heavy.
"It's the least we can do."
Levi's hands shook. He could see the damage—the deep dent in her chest, the blood pooling in the torn silk of her dress.
He bit his lip. Hard.
Then, slowly, he reached out.
Carefully, he lifted her head, resting it against his lap.
"Eliza?"
His voice was gentle now.
"Would you— Would you please sing for me?"
Her eyes—dimming, forever unblinking—turned to his face.
"Michael?"
She smiled. Soft, full of something he didn't understand.
"You came… I'm almost finished… with my solo..."
Levi brushed a bit of hair from her face.
"Let me hear it."
A breath. A pause.
Crimson Song, Eliza Darrow, smiled. Ear to ear.
Then she sang.
Her voice—fragile, broken—still carried the grace of her life.
Levi's tears fell freely.
Rufus and Edmond stood still, watching the silent desert.
And Eliza sang her final song.
One line.
One last note.
As her light faded, the sound rang out—clear as a church bell.
A sound Levi would never forget.
----
The rest of the night was static. A haze of exhaustion, guilt, and something heavier pressing on Levi's chest.
By the time the morning sun bled over the horizon, he barely registered it.
Since Eliza Darrow had passed, they had to bring her body back. A necessity. A business transaction. The bounty had to be collected.
He'd fought himself on it. His gut twisted at the thought of handing her over like a prize.
But they needed the money.
And as much as he wanted to bury her out here—far from the world that tormented her, far from the voices that cursed her name—he knew there were families waiting. Families needing closure.
So Edmond did the work. Rufus was too busted up, and besides, Edmond knew Levi couldn't handle it. Not yet.
They traveled slow. By the time they reached Clearwater, the morning was well underway.
The town stirred as they walked in, a small panic bubbling up the moment folks spotted them—three battered men, and the mangled body of a dead woman.
Rufus shut it down quick. A few fast words, some reassuring smiles, and folks simmered down.
After some fuss, one Levi was too numb to care about, they hitched a ride back to Denton.
The steam-cart rattled along, shaking with every bump.
Levi sat up front with the driver, the cold metal of the frame pressing into his palm as he gripped the seat. Behind him, Edmond and Rufus sat in silence, their eyes heavy.
Edmond eventually reached forward, his palm trembling.
Without a word, Rufus pulled out his tin and passed it over.
Edmond downed the whole thing in one swig.
A sharp breath. A pause. Then his hand went out again.
Rufus already had a smoke waiting.
Edmond took it. Lit it. Dragged deep.
Watching his friend, Rufus slipped his hat off, rubbing his head.
"Maggie's gonna want an explanation."
Edmond exhaled slow, eyes closed like Rufus had just dumped an extra heap of shit on his shoulders.
Another long drag.
"I'm not worried about her."
Bump. Th-thud.
The cart jolted, the body above them knocking against the roof.
Edmond exhaled through his nose, staring ahead.
"We shouldn't have brought him."
Rufus clicked his tongue, pulling out his own smoke.
"No point in regrettin' now. Don't help shit anyways. Also, don't forget—she was a Waster. No matter her story, she would've killed again if we didn't stop her."
Edmond's jaw tightened.
"He still shouldn't have been there."
Rufus sighed, stretching his legs out, boots knocking against the cart floor.
"Don't think we coulda forced it otherwise. Either we left her be, or we got the bad shit done. We got the bad shit done. Don't make it more than it is."
There was an edge to his words. Edmond caught it. Rufus wasn't looking to judge him, and he sure as hell wasn't about to be judged himself.
But Edmond couldn't shake the feeling. The lingering weight of what the kid had gone through.
Throughout his life, whenever things were said and done, he'd always run the possibilities afterward, picking apart his own failures like penance.
Luckily Rufus had always been his counter. The weight to balance him.
"You're right. She was already beyond saving, so we did her a favor. We just need to keep an eye on the kid. Make sure—"
"He's fine."
Edmond shot Rufus a look, like he'd been hit square in the face with a brick of stupid.
"I don't think fine is the word."
Rufus kicked his feet up, tipping his hat down over his face.
"Your eyes are gettin' old. Maybe we should leave ya behind on the next bounty, let ya rest them bones and retire."
Edmond stared at him, unimpressed. His gaze flicked to Rufus's wreck of an arm.
"Means nothin'."
Rufus waved him off.
"But that kid ain't nothin' to worry about. Trust me. What I saw wasn't the look of someone in need of help."
He closed his eye, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.
"That was the look of a man out for blood."
----
Up front, amid the roar of the engines and the driver's endless chatter, Levi sat blank and staring.
His hat sat low. His poncho draped over his arm.
Ahead, the cathedral spire broke the horizon, rising like a stake driven into the land.
But Levi didn't see it.
Didn't hear the wind.
Didn't feel the road beneath them.
One thought kept circling in his head. Over and over, since the moment they'd lifted her body.
A name.
'Michael.'
If the driver had been paying attention to the kid beside him instead of his own rambling, he might've noticed it sooner.
Might've caught the slow, deliberate clench of Levi's fingers.
Might've seen the way his metal arm dug into the leather of the seat.
By the time he did—long after dropping them off, when he was halfway back to Clearwater—he noticed the damage.
A chunk of his brand-new leather, torn clean through.
The metal frame beneath it—bent and twisted.