Riley Ross

"You brought me back here, Hera?"

Riley wondered where Hera was bringing her. He initially thought they were going to explore the streets around the hotel, as that was what Hannah and the Baby Crew wanted to do—but no. She grew wings on her back before they could hit the ground and flew away from the city, landing straight back in front of the Phoenix Wrath monument.

"Yeah."

Hera's large wings flapped behind her before fading into her back. She walked toward the monument, placing her hand on its uneven surface and tracing her fingers across the names of those who died.

"Do you know why you and your friends are taking this trip?" She asked Riley, glancing back at him with her eyebrows lowered.

"To clean the area around the monument, Hera." He answered while looking at all the trash scattered everywhere, his eyes slightly twitching, "But it is littered with trash now, more so than before due to the explosion."

"And other than that?" Hera sighed, slightly spinning around before resting her back on the monument. She tilted her head forward, a tiny smile creeping on her face as she looked at him, "What other meaning do you think this trip has?"

"Should there be another meaning to it, Hera?"

"That's up to you," she chuckled as she pushed herself away from the monument, "That's the point of all of this—to find meaning. Some reflect on their powers and what they could do, some become resolved not to use their powers for bad, some just… become more in tune with their mental health and shit like that."

"And what does it mean for you, Hera?"

"Reliving a memory," Hera closed her eyes, her lips slightly quivering, before her entire body shivered, and she had to shake it off. "I was here when it happened."

"Oh? And you are still alive, Hera?"

"Well, that's kinda my entire thing. Isn't it?" Hera softly chuckled, shaking her head as she looked at the flat horizon in front of them, "I was… eight. We were celebrating my brother's birthday. You know, I felt it. I felt something was wrong, but I couldn't quite explain what it was. I begged, and begged for my parents to leave—they brushed me off, of course. Who wouldn't? They probably thought I was just throwing a tantrum."

Hera took in a deep breath as she crouched down, plucking out an unlit candle from the ground and blowing on it.

"And before my brother could even blow the candle, bang. Everything around me was gone." Hera closed her eyes, "I felt it before it happened, but I didn't feel anything when it happened. Everything was just gone. I alone stood here. I walked for an entire day in this wasteland before Whiteking and the Hope Guild found me. I didn't know what happened, I didn't know where I even was anymore."

"I am sorry, Hera."

"Huh?" Hera raised an eyebrow at Riley, "That's very human of you, Riley. Thank you for joining us mortals. So, yeah—for me it means a memory. I can't even be sad or depressed about it because my body… my body doesn't allow me to."

"You seem to have the strongest superpower I have ever encountered, Hera."

"Mine isn't really a superpower. It's more like a defense mechanism."

"You can't control it?"

"I can. Whiteking taught me how to bypass it," Hera shrugged, "I need to force it to come out. But enough about me—what does this trip mean for you?"

"I do not believe I have an answer for that for now, Hera." Riley shook his head and sighed, "As you are already aware, I was kidnapped—if I am to put a meaning on this trip, then it would have to be that it made me realize that I do not really belong in the Academy."

"Why? Because you volunteered yourself?" Hera narrowed her eyes at Riley, "Or is it because you're partially the reason why everyone's safe?"

"I am not partially the reason why everyone is safe, Hera. It was all Megawoman's doing."

"That's not what I heard."

"But that is what—Hmm?"

Riley blinked a couple of times as he turned around. Hera also leaned her head to the side to look at where he was looking, and a quiet smile crept on her face.

"Oh. They're here."

"Were you meeting someone here, Hera?"

"No. They gather here almost every week."

"Hmm?" Riley tilted his head as he watched several shadows approach them, and soon, the shadows came from different directions—all heading toward the monument, "Should we leave, Hera?"

"No. This is what we came here for."

"Wh—"

"Just stay quiet. Talk if someone wants to talk with you." Hera once again grabbed Riley's hand, pulling him to the side to make way for the incoming crowd. Riley blinked a couple of times as he looked at Hera's hand, but he willingly followed her in the end as they both watched the crowd of people draw closer and closer to them.

And soon, lights began to flicker. It started with one, and then three, and then six… until finally, Riley and Hera found themselves being surrounded by a ring of fire.

Candles, hundreds upon hundreds of them, lighting up what was once a horizon of nothing but empty darkness.

Each candle was held gently by someone. Most were old, some were adults, and there were a handful of children, who were the first to reach the monument as they ran without extinguishing the flames they were holding.

The children let their candles drip on the ground, planting them next to the monument as soon as they could before running back to their parents.

"They are the ones who are littering, Hera."

"No…" Hera sighed while covering her face, "...They're the ones who are keeping this place alive, Riley. They're… the family and friends of those who died here."

"Like you, Hera."

"...Yes. Like me," Hera let go of Riley's hand, and then very softly held Riley's cheek as she looked him in the eyes, "And you."

"Hmm?" Riley blinked.

"I know who you are, Riley. Your… real mother. What really happened, what she did you…" She smiled at him. "...And I want to tell you that none of this was your fault."

"How do you know that, Hera?"

"I keep my ears open. And—"

"The two of you don't have candles?"

And before the two could continue their conversation, one of the older people in the crowd approached them. The woman handed a candle to Hera without another word and then also extended one to Riley.

He didn't take it, however, and only stared at the candle before glancing up at Hera.

Hera also didn't say anything; she just raised both her eyebrows and waited for him.

"If I take this…" Riley muttered as she looked at the old woman's shoulder, "...Do you and your companions promise to clean up after yourselves?"

"Uh… of course?"

"Very well." Riley shrugged and took the candle from the old woman. The woman then shared her fire with both of them, lighting up their candles before leaving just like that.

"What do with do with this, Hera?" Riley stared at his candle for a moment before once again looking up at Hera. But Hera wasn't saying anything and was only staring at the monument—at a specific set of names.

'Sharma, Arjun. Sharma, Evelyn. Sharma, Rajeev. Sharma, Riya.'

Riley tilted his head at the names, looking back and forth between the monument and Hera. But after a while, he freed himself from Hera's grasp and started moving through the crowd of people—he walked around the monument, until finally settling his eyes on a single name.

'Lane, Alice.'

And surprisingly,

'Lane, Riley.'

Hmm? They put both our names here, Biological Mother. These people do not even know that the person who killed all of their friends and loved ones is listed amongst the dead. It—

And before Riley could finish his thoughts, it was completely drowned out by a melody.

A melody that whispered from the lips of everyone there.

What is this?

Riley quickly made his way back to Hera as the people started singing, only for him to stop in his tracks as he saw Hera singing too. Her voice wasn't necessarily louder than anyone else's, but hers was the only voice that truly reached him.

It was… familiar for some reason.

The song was hard to understand, even though everyone was singing the same words—but perhaps the words weren't important at all.

After all, their words were already in the letters scattered throughout this flat wasteland. Right now, they are probably singing the words they couldn't include in the letters.

Their voices. Singing their loved ones a lullaby so that they may forever rest in the comfort of knowing that those they left behind are living on.

I suppose even in the tragedy of what you have done, Alice, there is beauty. But do you know what would make this even more beautiful…?

If their songs of love become screams.