Windstorm

The sun shines brightly in the crystal clear sky, burning through the air with its sapphire intensity, scorching the ground and evaporating any last traces of dew from the comparatively cool night away. Throughout most of Thera, the ground is parched, cracked, and covered in sand. Plant life is scarce, animal life even scarcer. In most places, that is, except for the Gau Forest. A lush, beautiful oasis with acres of strange and gorgeous gau trees, their mystical pinkish-orange leaves tinting the harsh blue sunlight to a more pleasing, calming shade.

The oasis is teeming with life of all sorts, from the smallest insects to the largest predators, but deep in the forest, near the center of the oasis, by the stream that gives life and sustenance to the entire forest, rests a simple, humble, wooden cabin. The cabin is small, barely large enough for one man to live comfortably in, but the vast oasis more than makes up for the lack of space and supplies.

Jack, the old resident of the cabin, rests on his small porch, rocking on his little chair, sipping away at a glass full of some sort of custom brew that smells of various spices and gau fruits. He listens to the pleasant bird songs that mix together beautifully in the crisp and cool under-canopy air, creating a vivid medley of whistles, chirps, and warbles. He basks in the peace of this morning, smiling ruefully to himself as he recalls the chaos of the past few days.

He can still see Elyas’ burned and bloodied face when he closes his eyes. The boy had been so close to death, just barely clinging on. Jack did what he could to dress his wounds, applying the best ointments and bandages he had available, but living alone in the middle of nowhere meant his supplies were quite limited. After two days of rest, Elyas was finally coherent enough to explain what had happened, and the look of horror on Elyas’ face shook Jack to his very core. He had known the young man ever since he was a small child, as he would occasionally visit Valleria Town for supplies whenever he ran out. Elyas would always love those rare visits, basking in the old man’s endless stories of life in the oasis, of his decades of experience, or even just a simple tale about what he was getting for himself that day. Knowing that Elyas was likely the only survivor of that once thriving town still tears through Jack’s ancient heart like a knife.

It took Elyas all of a day before he started getting antsy, begging Jack to train him, to teach him how to become strong enough to defeat the Harbinger. Elyas was in no shape to be trained, but Jack knew that the work would help distract him from his pain, so he taught him what he could. Elyas was a surprisingly adept student, despite his grievous injuries, and was able to enhance his latent abilities to much higher levels, as well as learn a few new tricks from Jack personally. Jack taught him how to better defend himself, using his telekinesis to form a sort of void around himself, shielding him from attacks. He taught Elyas how to harness his psionics and craft stronger blades. He taught Elyas how to sense his opponent’s intentions, allowing him to better react to their offensives. Through it all, Elyas got stronger, he became more confident, and with each passing day, he grew back to full health.

After that, Elyas began demanding more instruction, more techniques, more training. He never was one to take it easy, Jack quips to himself as he finishes off the last of his morning brew. He looks off in the distance, straining his aging ears to listen for the sounds of Elyas training on his own. Sure enough, after a few quiet moments, Jack can hear the sounds of psychic energy buzzing in the distance, followed by soft grunts as Elyas is no doubt practicing his blade-work. As long as he doesn’t cut any trees, I suppose it’s alright, Jack muses as he gets up to make himself another mug of his brew.

He enters his ancient cabin and starts the kettle on a small, simmering fire, all the while preparing the essential herbs, spices, and tiny slivers of gau fruit to boil. When his fresh brew is complete, he pours himself another mug and steps back outside, taking a sip of the extremely tart and sour drink, instantly feeling a rush of energy burst through his body, before the taste evens out into a sweeter note. As he takes his seat on the porch, listening to the sounds of Elyas’ training, he can’t help but remember how their last proper lesson ended.

It was only two days ago. Elyas had been making excellent progress with all of his new techniques, but Jack could tell that he wanted more. As they broke for lunch, Elyas brought up the big question. “Alright, old man,” he’d said, “I’ve been patient with you, but you know what I’m really here for.”

“Oh?” Jack had asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

“Power,” Elyas said simply. “I’ve heard rumors about what you can really do. People say that you know how to awaken someone’s true potential, that you can teach them to tap into wells of power they don’t even know about.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Jack asked noncommittally.

“Everyone says it,” Elyas repeated emphatically. “All of these other techniques are great and all, but I need to be stronger than this if I’m gonna kill that psycho Harbinger.”

That got Jack’s attention. He turned around, eyes widened slightly in confusion. “You’ve barely healed from your last fight. And you just want to get up and go again? You’re in no shape to fight, not seriously, anyway.”

“I’m fine,” Elyas ground out.

“I don’t just mean your body, son. The power you want, it comes with time, training. Heck, it took me three years just to develop the technique, let alone perfect it.” Jack shook his head, baffled by his apprentice’s unexpected demands. “You need to be focused, centered, calm. You need to have complete control over your psyche, and your body.”

“Oh, I’m focused. I’m more focused than I’ve ever been in my whole life,” Elyas said defiantly, puffing up just slightly. “I just need you to teach me the rest.”

Jack shook his head somberly. “No. You need time to recover. You just barely survived your last fight, and from what you’ve told me, you were the lucky one. You need to take your time, grieve, let yourself process everything.”

“I’ve already processed it,” Elyas claimed, his voice quiet yet loud at the same time. He shook his head and stormed off. They didn’t speak much the next day, but when Jack saw Elyas this morning, he’d been in a much better mood. He’d smiled, said hello, thanked him for breakfast, and sauntered off into the woods to train.

His training.

Jack suddenly perks up, realizing that things had gotten eerily quiet. He listens for any sounds from Elyas, but he only hears birdsong and the occasional breeze. After a few more moments of silence, Jack reaches out with his senses, trying to feel Elyas’ energy, which he quickly does. He can feel his power as it ebbs and flows rhythmically, like a heartbeat. It begins to grow, becoming more focused, more intense, as if Elyas were using it for some specific purpose.

He’s probably training his void fields, Jack decides with a short nod, as if that gesture alone would affirm the situation. He’s about to drop his senses when he picks up a sudden spike in Elyas’ energy. The spike falters slightly, then returns, much more stable and continuously rising. Elyas’ energy keeps on rising and rising, until it practically screams out at Jack, demanding to be heard. The energy growth reaches a sudden peak, stopping dead in its tracks as if it had hit a brick wall. However, Jack can still sense a buildup of power boiling underneath the surface, as if Elyas was pushing against whatever wall he had come across, trying to break through and reach new heights.

Jack’s eyes widen in sudden realization and horror. He darts out of his chair, only he’s too late. Off in the distance, a massive eruption of pitch-black energy and fire bursts through the canopy, lighting up the whole forest with its dark glow. Jack wastes no time and hefts himself up with his telekinesis, flying himself over to where he had last sensed Elyas. He blasts through the trees at breakneck speeds, pushing himself further than he’d pushed in a long while, desperately wishing that he isn’t too late.

After bobbing and weaving through a large section of the forest, Jack suddenly finds himself in a massive, charred, smoking clearing, surrounded on all sides by burning wisps of black flames and sparks of black energy. At the epicenter of the fire, his glistening hair standing straight on edge, his already torn jacket and shirt torn even further, lies Elyas Silver, barely conscious but still breathing.

Jack sets himself down and bolts over to the young man. He kneels down to his level, touching his face gently. “Elyas? Are you okay?”

Elyas stirs slightly and moans. His eyes struggle open, revealing a faint black tint to his otherwise emerald green eyes. The tint slowly fades away as the fires around them die down. Elyas blinks once, clearing his vision before turning his gaze to almost meet Jack’s. “Hey, old man,” he wheezes.

“What happened?” Jack asks, hoping beyond hope that his assumption is wrong.

The small smile that grows over Elyas’ face is enough to tell him that it's unfortunately correct. “I did it,” Elyas says simply before passing out yet again.

***

Meanwhile, far away from the Gau Forest, a chrome buggy peels through the dunes, kicking up dust and sand in its wake. Once again, Maria is at the wheel, driving with a complete lack of concern for the old machine’s limits. To her side, Joel lets out a small, distracted chuckle as she soars over yet another dune at full speed, his attention focused mostly on the components of the Psycho Scrambler in his lap. Behind her, Sullivan laughs heartily, enjoying the breeze rushing past his face, and the sight of Peter desperately hanging onto the edge of his seat.

“Where are we going now?” Peter shouts over the wind, his body being whipped back and forth by Maria’s wild turning.

“She’s close!” Maria shouts back, her head snapping back and forth as she tries to track the sudden burst of energy she’s picked up. She can feel the rush of hateful power pouring through the air. It feels fresh and recent, as if the Harbinger had just destroyed something.

“How close?” Joel asks as he continues his work on the Scrambler, somehow managing to be delicate and precise despite Maria’s wild driving.

“Close,” Maria replies simply, her eyes narrowing in determination. She presses her foot down hard on the accelerator, gunning the engine for all that it’s worth and rocketing off towards the energy she senses.

The buggy jolts as they leave the dunes behind and slam into a harder patch of stone, jostling everyone in their seats. “Little bit of a heads up next time,” Joel says through a grunt, grasping his tools and material tightly to avoid losing the small pieces of his machine.

“I told you I shoulda been the one driving!” Peter exclaims from the back, picking himself up and sitting back down.

Maria doesn’t reply to that, she simply continues driving, her mind focused entirely on tracking the Harbinger down. The buggy goes silent, the tension palpable as everyone prepares themselves for a battle. Joel rushes to piece the rest of the Scrambler back together, hoping that it will function in time for the confrontation. Sullivan simply closes his eyes and lets his breathing even out, conserving his energy for when he’ll need it most. Peter does his best to block out all of the distractions around him: the rumbling of the buggy, the roaring wind, the constant shifting in direction. He tries to focus through these distractions to settle his mind, to calm the building storm of energy he feels brewing in his psyche.

This is it, he thinks to himself. Be prepared for anything. Don’t lose control. They’re all counting on you. He can feel his energy start to leak through his hands, but he clenches his fist tight, forcing it back. He can’t afford another slip up. He either finishes this now, or he fails.

“Coming up,” Maria says suddenly, her head perking up, her eyes going slightly wide. “Strap down, we’re going in!” She reaches for the lever beside her and slams it down, pumping the last few shreds of speed and power out of the engine. The buggy roars up over a large mound of charred stone, vaulting over it like a graceful yibek.

Sullivan’s eyes snap open, his body immediately flaring up with green energy. He throws off his restraints and leaps out of the buggy, taking off running the moment his feet hit the ground. He darts off ahead of the rest, rushing into the smoldering village at full speed, summoning two psychic arm constructs to his side. He comes to a stop in the center of the village, right on the edge of a burning crater, scanning the area for any signs of danger. All he sees are the terrified and injured villagers, all huddling up together in fear of the newcomer.

As Maria pulls the buggy into the village, Sullivan drops his stance and eases up. He turns around and walks over to stop Maria from driving into the crater. “There’s no one here but the villagers,” he says, his voice low with disappointment.

“But… But I can still feel her,” Maria replies, reaching out with her senses. Sure enough, she can still feel the Harbinger’s presence, but now that she’s closer, she can tell exactly where it’s coming from: the crater in the center of the village. The energy still feels somewhat fresh, but it’s clear that the crater has been there for at least an hour. Maria lowers her head somberly. “We’re too late.”

“She baited us,” Joel says with a quiet voice. He looks around the village, examining the surviving residents and realizing just how many there are. “She left most everyone alive. She knows we’re tracking her, and she’s keeping the trail warm.”

“So, she attacked these people…just to keep us on her scent?” Peter asks, slowly getting out of the buggy and walking up to a young family, who are still huddling together in fear. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re not here to hurt you,” he says soothingly, kneeling down to their level. “Can you tell us what happened here?”

The young father looks up at Peter, drawing his wife and daughter closer to him. Peter’s eyes widen when he sees just how young the daughter is. She can’t be more than two or three years old, and covered in cuts and gashes from the Harbinger’s attack. “Who are you?” The father demands, a hateful fire burning in his eyes.

“My name is Peter. We… We’re here to help,” Peter says with what he hopes is a comforting determination. “What’s your name?”

“Johnny,” the father says after a long moment of silence.

“Johnny, right. Okay, Johnny, what do you need?”

Johnny pauses for a brief moment before speaking. “She needs bandages,” he says, motioning to his daughter.

“Got it. I’ll be right back,” Peter says, standing up and making his way towards the buggy. He starts rummaging through their supplies until he finds a few medical packs and wads of bandages. “Guys, start passing these out,” he says to his friends, tossing a pack to each one.

“On it,” Joel says, a small smile creeping onto his face. Not a scrap of hesitation, he says to himself as he starts tending to another injured villager.

Maria and Sullivan take their packs and start passing out supplies to everyone they can find. As they tend to the villagers, Sullivan starts pulling survivors out of the rubble, using his psychic projections to lift the fallen buildings and pick up the injured, handing them over to Maria to heal.

Peter makes his way back to Johnny and his family. He hands him a wad of bandages and some gauze, which he gladly accepts. “Thank you,” he says with a nod before applying the adhesives to his daughter’s wounds.

“Of course,” Peter replies before heading off to help others. As he goes through the rubble and destruction of the village, he can’t help but feel a sharp pang of guilt in his chest. I should’ve been here faster, he thinks somberly. He reaches down to help up an older woman, wrapping a large slash on her arm in gauze and bandages and telling her to help herself to the food and water supplies they have in the buggy. He does his best to shake away the feeling of guilt and focus on what’s happening here and now. He can worry about the hunt for the Harbinger later. He has people who need him right now.

***

Elyas’ eyes slowly flicker open. He lets out a soft groan and tries to sit up, only for a gentle hand to press him back down onto the soft bed he’s lying in. “Not yet. You need to rest some more,” Jack says quietly, trying not to startle the younger man.

“Jack…? What… How did I get here?” Elyas mumbles, slowly shifting his head around to examine where he is in the cabin. “Did you bring me in?”

“Yes. You’re lucky I got to you so soon. Your little stunt opened up plenty of fresh wounds,” Jack replies, nodding to a fresh sash of bandages wrapped tightly around Elyas’ waist.

Elyas lets out a small chuckle, bringing a sharp stabbing pain through his chest with it. He curls forward, clutching the injured parts of his body in mild agony before relaxing once again. “That’s right. I did it.”

“Did what?” Jack demands, leaning forward so that he’s directly in front of Elyas’ line of sight. “Elyas, what happened back there?”

“I finally figured out how to do your little ‘Awakening’ trick, old man,” Elyas answers, his voice cocky yet still brittle. “I unleashed more power than I ever knew I had. I can still feel some of it lingering around in my mind.”

Jack stares at Elyas in combined shock and amusement. “I don’t know what you did, but it sure as heck wasn’t an Awakening. It felt more like you let off a massive explosion of energy than anything else.”

“That explosion was only the beginning,” Elyas says confidently, his voice starting to become more solid. He brings himself up to sit, looking Jack dead in the eyes. “I broke my limits, Jack. I have the power I need.”

Jack shakes his head, letting out a soft sigh. “Elyas, look. I understand that you feel like you need to move fast, but—”

“I don’t think you do get it, Jack. I did it,” Elyas interrupts, jutting a thumb at himself. “I was able to unleash my full power, and I know I can do it again. With this power and your training, I’m finally strong enough to take on the Harbinger.”

“Do it again? Elyas, look at yourself! Whatever it is you did back there messed you up something fierce. And you want to do it again, while fighting that monster?” Jack shakes his head vigorously, placing a steadying hand on Elyas’ shoulder, only for him to pull away. “Elyas, don’t do this. You’re not ready.”

Elyas shoots the old hermit a deadly determined scowl. “I’m more ready than I’ve ever been! I don’t need you to tell me what I’m up against. I know what I’m getting myself into, and I’m telling you, I’m ready! I have the power, the control, the abilities. All I’m doing here is wasting my time! The longer I sit around, the more people die. I’m not going to sit here and listen to you telling me I can’t do this when I know I can!” He bolts up to his feet, taking a brief moment to wince as a fresh jab of burning hot pain leaps through his veins. He marches to the front door, snatching his jacket off of its hook and throwing it on in one quick motion.

“Elyas, wait!” Jack exclaims, rushing to stop his pupil, but he’s too late. Elyas is already gone, soaring out of the Gau Forest at full speed. Jack sighs somberly and walks back into his cabin, unsure of what to do next. He wants to go after the young man and drag him back into the forest, away from his suicide mission. But he knows he can’t do that. Elyas has already made up his mind, and there’s nothing Jack can do to convince him to stop now.

Jack slowly makes his way through his cabin, cleaning up some of the leftover mess from having to care for Elyas. He places what meager medical supplies he has left back into their respective containers and starts doing his best to clean off some of the fresh blood stains from his blankets. “Be careful out there, son,” Jack mutters to himself as he cleans, taking a brief moment to pause and reflect over the deep-maroon stain on one of his ancient sheets. He stares at the old blood with a contemplative disgust for a long while before he continues his work, knowing that there’s now nothing he can do to change things. Elyas has chosen his path. Jack simply hopes that this path doesn’t end in another tragedy.

***

The sun starts to dip lower in the sky as evening begins, casting long, almost haunting shadows all over Thera. These shadows provide a brief respite from the unbearable heat, signaling the slow end of yet another day. As these shadows continue to grow and warp, one shadow in particular catches Peter’s eye. He first notices it as something dark in the sky, almost like an incoming storm cloud, but much smaller. As the object gets closer, Maria starts to notice it. She suddenly perks up from her work with some villagers and stares up into the sky, her focus drawn in by what feels like an incoming source of power.

“What’s going on?” Peter asks her from over his shoulder.

“I’m not sure. It feels like something’s coming. Fast,” Maria replies, slowly reaching out for her steel orb with her mind, drawing it closer to her.

“Friendly?” Peter asks, motioning for Joel’s and Sullivan’s attention.

“Not sure, but I’d really rather not take the chance,” Maria answers.

Sullivan steps forward ahead of both of them and summons two constructs of fists on either side of himself. “Everyone, be prepared for another attack!” He calls out to the villagers, readying himself for combat.

Joel steps up behind Sullivan, readying his gun and aiming it towards the sky, trying to find whatever the others seem to know is coming. “I got eyes on it,” he announces after a brief moment, his hand trailing ever so slightly upwards as he tracks the incoming person. He is able to keep a steady eye on his target for a few more moments before it suddenly vanishes from his sight as if it had suddenly picked up an immense burst of speed. “What the?!”

“He’s coming in hot!” Maria exclaims, tightening her stance for battle.

“‘He’?” Peter repeats, charging a small psion orb in his right hand.

Before Maria can respond, ‘he’ lands right in the center of the village at breakneck speed with a resounding crash, leaving a massive plume of dust and ash in his wake. As the dust cloud settles, the silhouette of Elyas Silver steps out, his body enveloped in a shimmering black aura of psychic energy. He makes his way through the destroyed village, taking in the sights of distressed villagers, ruined homes, and charred rubble. “What happened here?” He asks, dropping his psychic aura. None of the villagers answer him, but a few do prepare themselves for another fight, drawing guns or charging small psychic attacks just in case.

“Mind telling me who the heck you are?” Sullivan asks as he bolts up to Elyas’ side, examining the newcomer with narrowed eyes, never dropping his battle-ready pose.

“I was gonna ask you the same question,” Elyas replies slowly, summoning a blade of ebon-black energy. “Are you responsible for all this?”

“What? No, we didn’t do this,” Peter says, his voice coming in from around the corner as he and the others finally catch up with Elyas and Sullivan. “We’ve been helping these people recover from an attack.”

“Then who made the attack?” Elyas replies quickly, his piercing green eyes staring Peter down with vivid intensity.

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” Sullivan interrupts. “You go first, then we’ll talk.”

Elyas eyes Sullivan suspiciously, but complies nonetheless. “My name is Elyas. Elyas Silver. I’m hunting down a woman calling herself the Harbinger. Does that name ring a bell with any of you?”

Peter’s eyes widen in surprise for a split second. He lowers his arms, dropping the energy he had been building up and motioning for the others to do the same. Maria nods and lowers her orb, then Joel slowly holsters his gun, leaving only Sullivan still ready for battle. “Yeah, we know who that is. We’ve actually been tracking her down ourselves for a while, too. Her trail led to this village, and when we saw it in ruins, we stopped to help.”

Elyas nods slowly, scanning the area and taking in the sights of dozens of people still recovering from what is very clearly a recent attack. He gives Sullivan one last sideways glance before he lowers his blade and straightens his posture. He steps forward and offers a hand for Peter to shake, flashing a casual smile at the younger man. “In that case, I think it’s best we start over. Like I said, I’m Elyas.”

Peter returns the smile and the handshake. “Peter. This is Maria, Joel, and I see you’ve met Sullivan.”

Sullivan lets out a soft grunt and lowers his psychic projections, finally convinced that this Elyas fellow won’t be any trouble. He steps forward and offers his own hand to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m assuming you’re tracking the Harbinger for the same reason we are?”

Elyas shudders slightly, his eyes growing dark, a small flicker of flaming black energy enveloping his left hand as he shakes Sullivan’s with his right. “If you mean because I was attacked, then yes. My hometown, Valleria…” He draws off, not looking anyone in the eye. “Well, let’s just leave it as I was the only one to survive. I’ve been hunting her down ever since.”

“That’s horrible,” Maria says, her voice soft, as if she was consoling an injured child. “Are you sure you’re the only one?”

Elyas nods once. “I don’t really think anyone else could have survived. I only survived because she left before she could finish the job. I… I refuse to fail like that again.” He looks up to Maria, his eyes burning with emerald green conviction. “If you’re hunting her down, then I want to join you. No, I need to join you.”

Maria smiles at that, a small, almost imperceptible smile. “Well, we always have room for more, right, guys?”

Joel steps up, motioning vaguely toward their buggy. “Well, that thing only has four seats, so…”

“I can fly if I have to,” Maria and Elyas offer at almost the same time. They exchange surprised glances at each other, then small, embarrassed chuckles at their sudden synchronization.

“Yes, please! Anyone but you should be in the driver’s seat,” Peter exclaims, a little too quickly, eliciting a small chuckle from Joel.

“No, no. I just meant that I would have to add a fifth seat into the buggy somehow, is all,” he says, his gaze flicking between Maria and Elyas. “No one needs to fly the whole way there.”

“How long will that take you?” Sullivan asks.

Joel shrugs. “Dunno. Normally it would only take an hour or so to install a small extra seat, but with the town the way it is, I doubt I’ll be able to find the right kind of materials to make and install one so quickly. Still, shouldn’t be much more than a day.”

“We can all pitch in to get you those materials,” Maria offers. “The sooner we get that seat in, the sooner we can head out.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Elyas says with a grateful nod of his head.

“Sure does. Welcome to the team, Elyas,” Peter says with a smile, offering his hand for another handshake. Elyas smirks and gives Peter a single, firm shake in reply before heading off with Maria and Joel to get supplies and material for the modifications.

“This should be interesting,” Sullivan comments, crossing his arms.

“‘Interesting’? How so?” Peter asks, his eyes narrowing in confusion.

“I’m not quite sure, honestly. It’s just… It seems like our new friend isn’t telling us everything about his motivations.”

“Well, he only just met us,” Peter points out, giving Sullivan a joking nudge on the shoulder. “Heck, when you first met us you tried to kill us. I consider mystery-man here an improvement.”

Sullivan gets a small chuckle out of that. “Fair enough. Still, I’ll keep an eye on him, just in case.”

“Good plan,” Peter says. “Now come on, that chair ain’t gonna build itself.” With that, Peter rushes off after his friends, shortly followed by Sullivan.

Peter rounds the corner into the center of town, only to come up short, cut off by a surprisingly large crowd of townsfolk. In the center of the crowd stands Johnny, a large basket hanging on his arm. “Howdy, y’all. I hope we’re not interrupting anything.”

“Uh, no, not really,” Peter says, looking through the crowded plaza to also find the rest of his friends on the far side of the crowd. “What’s this all about?”

Johnny takes a step forward and offers the basket to Peter. “For everything you’ve done today.”

Peter accepts the basket slowly, unsure of what to say. The basket is surprisingly heavy, almost taking him down with its weight before he adjusts his balance to stay upright. He hefts the basket up and looks inside, his eyes going wide as he sees a massive collection of food, ammunition, spare clothes, and all sorts of other materials within. “We… We can’t accept all of this. You guys need this more than we do—”

“Nonsense,” someone from within the crowd calls out. “After everything you gave us today, it’s the least we could do.”

“Exactly,” Johnny says, raising his voice slightly so he can be heard clearly by all. “It’s the least we can do, but we’d be honored to do more. If there’s anything else we can do to help, anything at all, we would love to do it.”

Peter stammers, completely dumbfounded. These people just survived what easily could have been a town-wide apocalypse, lost so much, and now they want to give more up, just to help some strangers? To his side, Sullivan smirks at his confusion but says nothing. While Peter freezes up, Joel steps forward. “Is anyone here a mechanic?” He asks, eliciting a few raised hands from the crowd. “Perfect. Follow me,” he says simply, heading off toward the buggy, followed by four villagers, Maria, and Elyas.

“I’ll go give these people one last look through,” Sullivan says to Peter before he takes off, scanning the village for anyone who still looks like they need assistance.

Before Peter can think of something to say or do, he feels a slight tugging sensation on his jeans. He looks down to find Johnny’s daughter, who he earlier found out is named Eliza, standing by his knees. He smiles and kneels down to her level, looking her in the eye. “Hello, Eliza. How are you feeling now?”

“Okay…” she says shyly, her voice squeaky. She seems to be holding something in her other hand behind her back. She looks down away from Peter and shuffles awkwardly, clearly not sure what to do next.

Peter smiles patiently, his gaze flicking up to see Johnny walking up, smirking at his daughter. “Go ahead. You can give it to him,” he says encouragingly.

Eliza nods once and jerks her hand out, staring Peter dead in the eyes. “Dis for you,” she mumbles, holding out what looks like a large cookie in her tiny fingers.

“Oh, what’s this?” Peter asks, taking the cookie from the little girl, surprised by how massive it is.

“Mama make dem for me when I get an owie. I made a big one for you, to help your big owie,” Eliza says sweetly, pointing a pudgy finger at Peter’s bandaged arm.

“What?” Peter asks, looking down at his right arm with belated realization. “Oh, right. Thanks, Eliza. I’m sure this is gonna help a lot. You be careful, alright? Gotta let your owies get even better, right?” He pokes her playfully on the shoulder, getting a tiny laugh from her.

“I will,” she says before giving him a short hug and running off to her dad.

“Thank you, Peter. For everything,” Johnny says, offering Peter a hand to get up. Peter gladly accepts the hand and is surprised when he finds himself pulled into a firm hug. He hesitates for a second before returning the brief hug.

“Of course, Johnny.” He pulls out of the hug and shakes the other man’s hand firmly. “Thank you for the supplies.”

Johnny nods once, a firm conviction in his eyes. “Any time. You be careful out there, too. Go get that monster for us.”

“We will.” For you, for Elyas, for our village, and for all of the other lives she’s ruined, I swear we will.