A Long Ways From Home

Chapter Thirteen: New Talents, Old Fears

It has been twelve hours since they fled from the old and grey abandoned house. Her fresh battle scars have been healed. And not by a healing stone from one of their recovered Loric Chests, but from Stela's new legacy.

"It's a fairly rare power, and one of the most valuable our people can possess," Reynolds had said, clearly impressed and grateful for the occurrence.

It is really impressive, to say the least, Chenoa thinks. She had suffered from a blaster burn during the fighting back in Florida. But once they were free to escape and they met with Stela, she was more than eager to help and display the power of her new healing ability. Chenoa watched in awe as the red flesh that she was certain would result in a scar slowly faded to pink and eventually returned to her usual pale skin tone. It almost looked like magic. It shouldn't have seemed possible, but her shoulder is just fine now. As if nothing even happened.

Emily on the other hand, Chenoa can tell that her throat is still bothering her. Though it isn't red like it was when they found her. Stela healed whatever bruises there were and it looks fine, but Chenoa can see that the older girl is still uncomfortable. And so, she moves over ever so subtly until she is sitting right beside her in the back of the big white van.

"Hey," she starts, and Emily looks up at her; they all do. "Are you good?"

It's then that Emily looks away, not wanting to maintain her gaze and seeming unkeen on engaging in conversation.

"I still feel his grip," she says at last, her right thumb tracing the bottom of her neck where the soldier was probably holding her. "I thought for sure that I was going to die. It just makes me wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Kevin asks gently.

"What if we're not strong enough to stop what's coming?" she says then, and the entire van goes silent, the only noise coming from the roar of the road and honking trucks and cars speeding past. It's clear that everyone is thinking the same at that moment. "They already killed most of the Cêpan and half of the Chimærae. We still don't know where Mae is or if she is okay. I never imagined that the Mogs would be so strong... what if we can't stop the future that Jordan saw from actually happening? What happens if we all die?"

There is a moment of silence. A silence where no one knows what to say to that. Everyone is thinking; it is shown on their faces. The distant look in their eyes. The fidgety hands. A bit lip here and there. No one willing to meet anyone's gaze.

Until that is, Reynolds speaks from the driver seat. "That won't happen," he says and pauses. "None of you realize how powerful you truly are. Alone, you're tough; limited perhaps. But together, you are undefeated. By working together, it is possible to survive this war. It may not seem like it, but it's true. You need to believe. You need to trust in yourselves and trust in your abilities, your talents. Lorien gifted you with such unique legacies for a reason. Not only that, but Lorien chose you, Ten Garde, to be saved. I know it may seem bleak and uncertain. I know you may feel scared about what might come. The Mogadorians have already taken too much from you already. None of you deserve the fate that you've been forced to endure. But there are options. There is hope for a better future. For a better outcome. All you need to do is keep going, as difficult as it may be. If giving up seems like the only available option, remind yourself that it isn't. You can always fight..." He trails off, clearly in thinking, watching the overcrowding road ahead and thinking. Then he continues, "I used to tell Mae this all the time on our days on the run: that each step you take becomes harder and harder the longer you go on, but what matters is that you keep taking that next step. That you keep pressing forward. No matter what happens. And eventually, you'll be rewarded. We'll all be rewarded."

Another silence, this one even more uncomfortable than the last.

Thankfully, Jordan speaks to break it. "Yeah," he says. "I mean, Stela's legacy is proof that anything is possible. She developed a healing legacy when we needed it most. Chenoa, you would've had a scar if she didn't heal that blaster wound. Emily, you probably would've had to live with the same from that Mog's chokehold. And me, I might've died if she didn't knit the stab wound from that dagger in my thigh. Stela's new legacy saved the lot of us yesterday."

"Hey, it wasn't all me," Stela jumps in, blushing at all the attention and praise. "You developed a legacy too."

"Yeah, but it doesn't beat healing."

"Legacy?" Emily asks. "When did you get another legacy? What is it?"

"During all the fighting," Jordan answers, then places one of the model toy soldiers holding a plastic gun in its arms on the floor of the van in front of his crossed legs. The same they've seen from the house they fled.

He focuses on it while the soldier stares at the group immobile. And with a crease shown on Jordan's forehead, the tiny soldier moves.

It steps off of the small wooden base it stands on and walks forward a few steps. Emily gasps in shock, cupping her mouth in surprise. When it stops walking, the soldier's arms rise and levels the gun up at her face.

Chenoa smiles, eager with energizing glee at the sight of such a legacy.

"How are you doing that?!" Emily questions.

Jordan only shrugs. "I was holding it during all the chaos – don't ask me why, I just was. The Piken was barreling down on me. I was trying to convene with it, to make it feel calm or act like my friend. But it's harder with beasts than it is with people; I don't know, maybe it's because we're a species that's easier to understand. I was getting desperate. And all of a sudden, I felt the thing move in my palm. Like, on its own. I thought I was going crazy. But that's when I felt an abrupt stinging in my hand. From the little gun it was holding."

"The gun actually works?" Fabian asks next to him, pointing to the toy.

"Does it deal real damage?" Jay wonders out loud.

"Not real damage, no," Jordan says. "Maybe because it's smaller than an actual gun and the bullets are just meant to be there for the toy to do what it needs to do? I dunno. But you still feel a slight pain. Like a pins and needles kind of pain. Like if you were to get stabbed by a thumb tack. It isn't bad, just a pinch, but still enough to draw a drop of blood."

"Wow, that's kinda cool," says AJ, to who everyone turns to at the unusual comment. "What? You can potentially have your own army of toy soldiers to use against someone. Is that not good?"

"Yeah, I guess so, but I don't want to have to do that."

"It's a useful legacy," Reynolds admits. "If you develop it to a higher degree it could be a great asset in the future."

Jordan only nods. And the rest of the ride into New York City passes in a heavy silence.