Chapter 32: My Crimson Died
After what felt like an eternity, but was likely closer to thirty minutes, Leghorn's familiar outline could be seen approaching from the distant factory. Emerson and Terrchel, who had been lost in their shared, somber silence, jumped to their feet immediately and rushed over to him. Hope, fragile and desperate, flickered in Terrchel's chest.
"Bad news," Leghorn announced, his voice grim as he reached them. "I couldn't get in the room to retrieve your swatch. Lawrence has the place doubled up in swarms of patrols, but I did get this jetpack off one of the dead patrols." He threw a jetpack at Terrchel, who nearly tumbled over from the impact, his exhaustion making him clumsy.
Emerson, a wry smirk touching his lips despite the gravity of the situation, couldn't resist a jab. "You sure you can fly, FLYMAN? You can't even walk, hahaha."
Terrchel shot him a glare, a flicker of his usual irritation breaking through his grief. "Well, I don't trust Mr. Old School to be able to do it, so just shut up like a good boy and let's get going." He adjusted the jetpack's straps, activated it, and hovered awkwardly above Emerson, who reluctantly allowed Terrchel to place his hands under his arms and levitate them both into the night sky.
"We won't ever speak of this," Emerson grumbled, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
Terrchel laughed, a raw, humorless sound. "Maybe it's time to get your own gear, grungeboy."
As they soared into the sky, the sprawling city of Arcadia seemed to shrink beneath them, appearing impossibly far away. All they could see for a long stretch was desolate land, a dark expanse punctuated only by the distant hum of the hidden factory. After a while of following Leghorn's precise directions, Terrchel began to recognize the familiar parts of Arcadia unfolding beneath them. The towering skyscrapers, with their sleek, metallic surfaces, glinted like a thousand tiny stars in the fading light of day.
Emerson looked down at the familiar streets, once a bustling hive of activity. Now, they seemed like a miniature model, with tiny skyscrapers and pedestrians moving in eerie silence. Sadness filled his mind. He knew the person he once was had died when he left this city behind him.
The wind rushed past them, whipping Terrchel's hair into a frenzy as he gazed out at the stunning, yet somber, vista. But despite the thrill of flight, Terrchel's mind was elsewhere. His thoughts were consumed by Meriella, his heart heavy with worry. He refused to believe she was gone, that he'd never see her bright smile or sparkling eyes again. The thought of it was like a knife to the gut, leaving him breathless and aching. He gritted his teeth, fighting back the overwhelming emotions. He had to hold on to hope, no matter how slim. Meriella is out there, somewhere at base, he clung to the thought, sheer determination hardening his face.
The jetpack's roar faded into the background as Terrchel's focus narrowed to a single, driving goal: save Meriella, no matter what it takes. Emerson, sensing Terrchel's tension, glanced up at him with a concerned expression. But Terrchel just shook his head, his eyes fixed on the horizon, a silent plea for no questions. "Just keep quiet, Emerson. We're not out of this yet." The wind howled around them, but Terrchel's words were lost in the rush of air, leaving Emerson to wonder what was truly going through Terrchel's mind.
They landed nearby The Undergrid tunnels and immediately ran through the mossy pathways to get to the hideout. The familiar scent of damp earth and neglect filled their nostrils, a grim welcome home. They burst into the hideout, the air buzzing with a frantic, stressed energy. In the makeshift healers' quarters, amidst low murmurs and the hurried movements of healers-in-training, Meriella's lifeless body lay on a bed. Healer kids, faces etched with concern, bustled about, bringing herbal teas and ointments from the makeshift healers' corner, a desperate attempt to find a solution. Everyone seemed to be stressed and all hands on deck, running over their feet in a desperate search for answers.
A healer woman, her face etched with worry, rushed towards Emerson. "Master Emerson, you're home! We are worried sick. We tried everything; nothing is working. We're afraid there's nothing we can do."
"No! I refuse to hear that! Try again. Try something!" Emerson's voice cracked with desperation, his eyes pleading, mirroring the raw anguish Terrchel felt. He ran over to Meriella, grabbing her hand. It was cold to the touch, and a single tear escaped his eye at the sight of her pale, lifeless skin. "I can't bear to see her like this," he whispered, a guttural sound of pain.
Terrchel stood by Emerson's side, his stance stubborn, refusing to accept the reality. "She's not dead, this celestial core thing just isn't working!"
The healer woman, her voice soft with pity, confirmed their deepest fear. "Meriella doesn't have a heartbeat."
Emerson looked sadly at Terrchel, shook his head, and walked away, unable to bear the sight any longer. On his way out, he questioned one of the healers about Meraki, and they stated she had a panic attack and they gave her a natural sedation to calm down and sleep off the shock of Meriella. He nodded, his shoulders slumped, and disappeared into the labyrinthine tunnels of the hideout.
Terrchel immediately took Emerson's place at Meriella's side, his hand slowly and gently caressing her cheek. "Come back to me, my sweet Crimson," he whispered, a desperate plea.
Leghorn approached, his voice somber. "Terrchel, I'm afraid if Meriella's core energy has been destroyed or died out for some reason, then there's nothing we can do." He continued, explaining the stark reality, "When I gave the permission for Arnold to use the celestial energy to revive her... She was already dead... Meaning that core energy was her source of life. The only way I see her coming back to us is by a God-given miracle."
The healer woman from earlier, her face filled with sympathy, added, "I think Leghorn is right. Without a heartbeat or a glow, we won't be able to tell if she's still in there somewhere or what, because this has now become a supernatural situation. Not even the technology is working, nor the herbs. I'm sorry, Terrchel." She put her hand on Terrchel's back to comfort him, knowing she herself and all the others were saddened by the situation, as Meriella had been a motherly figure to everyone in the hideout.
"No! No! No! NO!" Terrchel screamed, his voice raw with a pain that ripped through the quiet room. "SHE'S IN THERE! I KNOW IT!"
Leghorn reached out, intending to touch Terrchel's head to comfort him, but Terrchel swatted his hand away. "Don't touch me! I want my Meriella, and I want her NOW!" The crowd of healers, wide-eyed and bewildered, stared at Terrchel's outburst. Everyone was in mourning, but nobody expected such a display of anger. Whispers filled the room; people had assumed Emerson and Meriella would be together, but now this incident brought about a buzz of gossip that spread throughout the hideout.