The Scoop of the Century - Chapter Six

In the warm sun of the Valley, you close your eyes and imagine that little, pale blue planet. You saw it as it was. The voices of your children whisper in your mind. Fear, excitement, panic, curiosity, so many emotions and you feel them all at once and sympathize with all. You focus your attention on continent, the one they called North America, home of the United States, where you had walked the prior two days. It was shrouded in darkness, facing away from the bright sun. The darkness had been useful. It kept them organizing an attack on you while you got your bearings. But you did not wish for them to remain that way. It drove fear in their hearts. You were not oblivious to the crimes that had been committed in the cover of darkness that you had wrought onto their world. It pained your heart, but it had not been you who had instigated these acts. The choice had been theirs. It always was. Darkness existed in all places just as the Light did. One always had to bear the night before the seeing the rising dawn. And the dawn would come with you. For now, you needed their lights to return to them.

You shift your imagination to how bright the country had been in the days before you arrived, how brightly it had shined, a past echo of what it was now. You hold the image and examine it carefully, dissecting it. The rivers of information start churning into your vast mind and you see what powers their stars. The wiring, the piping, the conduits, the generators...all of it laid bare. Which had been working before and which had been disrupted by your arrival. When you had all you needed to know, you returned to the present, the now. You gazed at little Earth. This would be the hard part: A delicate operation where the slightest fumble could spell disaster. But you would not let the Darkness linger any longer, so you drew a deep breath and let your powerful mind take the fragile planet in its grasp.

Miles of cables. Like tiny arteries. You slowly draw an incorporeal finger along them, feeling for disruptions. When you feel them, you careful pinch them between your thumb and forefinger and pour small traces of your Light into them. Sometimes a little Darkness was needed to erode what could not be repaired so it could be replaced. Your head throbbed. Your heart raced. Your fists tightened around the arms of the chair you were sitting in. Your entire body trembled. One slip up and miles of land would crumble to dust under the weight of your mind. But you breath slowly and force yourself to continue...

…

“Has to be someone else...” Paul Wallace muttered to himself.

Lanard could still hear him. The moon had moved more than either man. Glass suspected that Paul couldn't sleep, just as he himself couldn't. The old geezer was probably still trying to discredit Chuck's words. That whoever 'Evanora' was, it simply could NOT be the massive woman that had appeared. There were other sounds floating around on the floors above and below them, but most of the others who remained in the walls of the Daily Occurrences had seemingly gone to sleep. Lanard Glass continued to stare out the window, watching the new world go by and the madness it brought. The fervor wasn't as intense as the first night, but some semblance of order was beginning to take form. The Senior Editor wondered if he would ever feel any sort of normalcy again.

Just as the thought popped in his mind, the lights of the building jumped to life. The AC kicked on and a cool breeze from a vent above him touched his skin. He looked up at the ceiling as the long fluorescent bulbs illuminated the building, casting out the darkness that had plagued them for the last two nights. His expression was mild, almost disinterested. But his mind began to reel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Paul Wallace stop dead in his tracks. Both men stared up at the lights for a moment before looking at each other. Paul's eyes were wide, a mix of relief and confusion there. Lanard met his gaze for a second longer before turning to look back out the window.

The buildings began to light up. Slowly at first, but then rapidly. The lamp posts lit up the streets where crowds of people stopped, as if a pause button had been hit. For a second, there was only surprised confusion. Then the cheers began to erupt, both from within the building and outside. Men and women began to bounce with joy, embracing each other. Laughs and roars of jubilation rang out where screams and gunfire had the nights before.

Lanard looked out across the streets of the city. Then, he turned up towards the sky, where sunlight was only just beginning peek out across the night.

And hope began to rise in Lanard Glass's chest.

…

You release the planet with a strained gasp, going limp in your chair. The pain your head is so great that the light from the Valley sears your eyes and you wave it away, bringing the cool night to your home. Then, when you feel you are able, you wearily turn your tired eyes back to the planet.

The Light has returned. What was dark is now filled with thousands of small lights, like tiny stars filling the night sky. Your children, those who had been shrouded in the Darkness are jubilant. Where many cries of despair had rang came a thunderous roar of joy and hope. The pain in your head melted and a wide smile spread across your lips as your own heart leaped with its own joy and relief. They would still be wary of you. But with hope on their hearts, it was the time for the real work. You stood up from the chair and entered the Cabin. There were still some little preparations to do. Your mind was whirling with excitement for what was to come. The bloom that you would bring.

…

A series of images hit him.

The U.S lighting up again, power restored. Vials of some strange clear solution that seemed to shimmer with some unknown power. Feelings of hope. Joy. People celebrating in the streets. Relief.

Then water. Vast stretches of water lined with rocky shores studded with forests.

He watched these images as they overtook his senses. He felt the joy, could feel the water of the lakes as he stood at the shallow shore, smell the trees. It all built and built in power and clarity.

It was only when his mind could take no more that he was forced to open his eyes.

…

There was a bustle of activity in the Daily Occurrences in the hours after the electricity had returned.

All the journalists, editors, and interns hastily paced the room, most of them on the phone with loved ones. Several were sobbing with relief. Lanard's own cellphone, which had sat in his pocket, mostly forgotten since the giant woman had appeared, had come to life before he had barely retrieved it. His mother was calling. It had almost been impossible to speak with her as the line beeped with other people attempting to get ahold of him. His brother. His grandmother. His boss. Contacts from stories long ago. Eventually, after spending almost half an hour consoling his mother, he hung up and turned his phone off to catch his breath.

He could almost feel the entire country reeling. Connections that had long been taken for granted had suddenly been restored and everyone was reaching out. Outside, the roads begun to clear. There had been an effort to clear them during the first night. Cars that had been abandoned had been pushed off to the side and, now that the power had been restored, more people came out of where ever they had holed up to return to their vehicles. Traffic lights functioned again and the honking that had been so commonplace returned. To Lanard, it was almost like watching a clogged artery become cleared.

Even Paul Wallace, who had spent most of the night pacing in the same spot, seemed to forget his fixations and was on the phone with his wife. He had sat down at a desk across from Lanard and was speaking rapidly and shakily. His old lady seemed to have no idea what was happening aside from perhaps some whispers she had heard, as Paul described in great detail what he had seen. Yes, it was a giant woman. Yes, really. A massive woman who had appeared out of nowhere and crossed the country. How did he know?

“The radio.” He had said, almost sounding impatient. “The one you gave me years ago, of course!”

He told her everything. Well, almost everything. At no point did he mention the name, 'Evanora', nor did he relay the fact that one of his co-workers had fainted and apparently managed to speak to the titanic woman. He also did not enlighten her on his theory that she was not, in fact, some kind of God but apparently some sort of alien from outer space, or whatever he believed. That part of his ramblings were never clarified. His repeated use of the phrase, “I don't know” suggested he wasn't ready to delve into that topic with his wife. At least not yet. Maybe when he saw her again.

If he saw her again, of course.

Several employees began approaching him if they could leave. With the power back on and the roads slowly clearing, more people were willing to brave the outdoors and try to get home. Eventually, Lanard simply started waving them away when they asked rather than listen to their explanations. His own bosses might have issues with him sending their workforce home when a story of grand proportions had literally walked across the country, but screw it. Everyone had been terrified the last couple of days. Let them return home. Lanard considered the option of leaving too, but decided against it. At least for now. He knew that this couldn't be over. The giant woman would most likely return. And that would likely mean the power getting knocked back out again, which meant another round of chaos when people's hopes were shattered. It would be better to wait. Safer to wait.

There was also the matter of Chuck Stephens.

The man had not moved since he had fallen unconscious after announcing his revelation of the strange visitor's name. Lanard had more than once held a hand close to the man's face to see if he could feel the warm air of his breathing, had checked for a pulse just as many times. Chuck was the suddenly a link to all of this and Lanard needed him alive. With the power back on, the option of taking him to the hospital or trying to wave down an ambulance seemed more promising. But the return of electricity likely also meant that emergency services were now greeted with more insanity as the ability to coordinate was restored. Chuck didn't seem to be in dire straights yet, and he would hopefully wake up again as he had before. Lanard would wait another day before taking him somewhere.

Fortunately, it turned out that he didn't have to.

Lanard almost didn't see him. If Jacob Rimsley hadn't gasped his name, Chuck Stephens would have hurried past the crowd without so much as another word. But Lanard turned upon hearing the man's name and, seeing him pushing through the other employees, most of which were too enthralled with their own phone calls and plans of departing to notice who it was, yelled, “CHUCK!”

The room came to a pause. Chuck Stephens turned to his boss who waved him over. Old Man Paul hastily cut off his conversation with his wife.

“Where are you going?” Lanard asked him with a strange calmness.

“She's coming back.” Chuck said quickly. His eyes were wide and had dark circles under them. Despite being unconscious for hours, he looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. “And she's going to go to the Great Lakes.”

“Who is?” Paul asked.

“She is!” Chuck shot at him.

“...Evanora?” Lanard inquired softly.

“Yes!”

“Who's Evanora, Chuck?” Paul asked eagerly. Almost desperately.

“How do you know where she's going?” Lanard said.

“I saw it.” Stephens replied impatiently.

“You saw it?”

“YES!”

“She told you?”

“I...I don't know...” Chuck paused. “It's...hard understanding. And I don't know if she told me or if I just...” He swallowed. “But I know that's where she's going!”

“Chuck, who is Evanora?” Paul again asked.

“Who else, Paul!?” Chuck barked at the old man so loudly that those who weren't already watching now were. “Do you know any other massive women?”

Paul didn't respond. He simply stood there, his shoulders slowly slumping like he was a ballon that was rapidly deflating. His hope had hinged on the idea that Chuck had thought of some other woman entirely. As fragile as it had been, that hope had kept him grounded. Now it was gone and a worrying emptiness filled his eyes.

“Chuck,” Lanard said. “Even if you're right...”

“I AM, Lanard!” Stephens snapped.

“Fine.” Glass said patiently. “But you're not going anywhere.”

“What do you...?”

“I mean you just woke up after being unconscious for several hours. You're in no shape to be running off. And even if you were, the roads are still crowded. Lake Erie and Lake Ontario are on the other side of the state. It will take you hours if not more than a day to get there with all the chaos going on out there as people try to get home not that the power is back on. By the time you get there, she'll have already done whatever it is she's going to do.”

“But...”

“Also,” Glass interrupted him. “I think you need to tell us just exactly how you came to find out that our mysterious visitor goes by 'Evanora'.”

“She told me.”

Lanard gave him a queer look. “I thought you said you couldn't understand? You can understand her? Is she speaking to you?”

“She DID speak to me.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.” Chuck spoke without hesitation. “When we saw her pass by.”

“I didn't hear her.” Paul said quickly. “We all would have heard her. She's too big not to hear.”

“I wanted to know who she was.” Stephens replied slowly. His gaze suddenly drifted away from Lanard and towards the floor. “I...I wanted to know. I had to know. After everything that we've seen...I had to.”

“Did you yell something to her?” Lanard asked. He was still feeling that strange sense of calmness.

“...No.” Chuck said. Now he looked unsure. “But she heard me. She told me that she did.”

He paused there. Murmurs floated throughout the other employees who were now watching, their conversations all forgotten. Paul glanced over at them, but Lanard kept his attention on Chuck.

“...she tried to say more...” Chuck went on. Now it seemed like he was talking to himself than to his Senior Editor. “...but I couldn't...then, while I was unconscious...I saw her. I wanted her to say something...anything. I...I saw so many things but, none of it made sense. The only thing I was able understand was her name...Evanora.”

He swallowed. From the sound, Lanard guessed it took great effort.

“Someone grab him a water.” Glass quietly instructed. He heard footsteps as someone went to do it but his eyes never left Chuck. “What happened next, Chuck?”

“Nothing.” Stephens said. “After that was...darkness.”

“Then how do you know where she's going?”

“I saw more images suddenly.” Chuck said after a moment. “They flew by rapidly but they were so clear. But they were so powerful and so sudden I woke up before I could hear more.” He paused again.

More murmurs from the others. Jacob Rimsely suddenly broke through the crowd and offered Chuck a bottle of water. Chuck took it and downed it in a few gulps. Paul Wallace has slumped into a chair but had regained some of his composure. He listened to Chuck's words not without some fascination.

Lanard simply sat where he had been all night, listening carefully.

“Okay,” He said after Chuck tossed his water bottle aside. “So she spoke to you. Or at least tried to. Do you think you can try to communicate with her again?”

“That's why I need to get to the Great Lakes!”

“Chuck, you're not going to the the Great Lakes,” Lanard replied calmly.

“Lanard...”

“If he can talk to her,” Jacob spoke up. “Then we should let Mr. Stephens...”

“It's too far.” Lanard said firmly. “He'll never get there in time. But that doesn't matter. What's important is that, if Chuck has spoken to her, it's possible he can again. That woman is massive. She crossed the country in minutes. It's only a matter of time before she comes back our way. When she does, Chuck can...” He stopped, unsure how to finish. What exactly had Chuck done to grab the attention of the massive woman? That was still unclear. “...try and communicate again.”

“She might not come back.” Paul said weakly. It was evident that he didn't believe his own words, but some deeper part of him desperately wished to.

Lanard himself began to speak, meaning to try and calmly tell Paul that his hopes were likely unfounded. However, Chuck suddenly became animated again, pushing his way through the other employees. “Chuck!?”

“She's already back!” He yelled.

“Get the radio.” Lanard said to Paul, who only looked at him as if they had never met before.

“Forget the radio!” Glass yelled. “The lunch room! TV!”

He disappeared down the hall. Soon, everyone else followed him.

…

There was a small problem: They were waiting for you.

A force had gathered around the Mojave Desert, anxiously awaiting your return. The return of their electricity had allowed them to spread word of where you liked to return. You could re-enter their world from anywhere, of course, but the fact that they had built up a resistance meant they were still very much wary of you. Your hope from yesterday wavered, but you steeled yourself and went forward with your plan. Hooked under your elbow was not your red bag, but the wicker basket from your garden in the Valley. In it, several vials and jars. The vials full of the clear solution you had worked to make. The jars full of dirt from the garden. It was good soil, full of your love and Light. The impact it could have on this little planet...

You stepped out, not into the vast plains of sand that was the Mojave Desert, but the fields of the midwest, far ahead of the force that had been waiting for them. Their technology restored, you felt eyes on you that you hadn't previously. It wouldn't take long for them to realize what had happened. You needed to move.

Quickly you glance down to see if the hem of your dress doesn't catch anything. It doesn't, safely fluttering well above your boots. You see the miles of fields and farmlands around you. Stretches of fresh soil and blossoming crops. Beautiful gardens promising yields of wonderful vegetation. The smile is unavoidable and your heart beats happily. A warm feeling of belonging fills you. Here in a garden, dirt under your feet, cool air blowing in your hair, the warm sun against your skin. It feels like home, and the hope comes back.

The plants surge under your loving gaze, their growth rapid and eager. You can't help it. Nothing brings you more joy than the blossoming of life. And the foliage sings out to you, moved by your very presence. You want to sing with them. Coax them to grow as full and healthy as they could. You can feel your voice bubbling up your throat, eager to burst forth. You bit your lip and begin to walk. The ground hold strong against your steps, the earth having welcomed you as much as the flora. The dirt of the land is not even slightly disturbed. As you walk, the soil of the farmlands fill with crops to their very brim, all of them eagerly looking up to the warm sun which bathes them with its Light. The song they sing is beautiful and your smile widens and, thus, their growth hastens further.

A familiar sound touches your ears as you carefully make your way across the land. Flying vehicles. The same kind as the day before. They were already following you.

…

In the lunchroom of the Daily Occurrences, all eyes were glued to the TV.

Chuck's premonition had turned out to be true. The Giantess had returned. While many news stations were still off the air, perhaps too understaffed to properly report the situation, a couple of news pilots were active. Whether they acted on orders of their stations or on their own volition was anyone's guess. Still, live footage of the immense woman, for the first time, hit public television and the reporters offering commentary. One claimed that the military had built up a small force to intercept the Giantess when she reappeared at the Mojave Desert, stating that she had a tendency to appear and disappear there. However, this time, she had not. Instead, she had appeared else where and was already making her way through Nebraska, seemingly heading northeast.

Straight for the Great Lakes, as it were.

She was different, however. Her attire had changed. Instead of her fancy thigh boots and leather pants, she wore a simple dark green dress and brown boots, both of which had small but noticeable stains from dirt and grass. In lieu of her bright red purse, she held a wicker basket. No one was flying high enough to see what the basket held. But it was bizarre seeing her like this. She had gone from looking like some upper class woman to...

“She looks like...a gardener.” Paul had said quietly.

These words hung in the air for a moment before ringing when the camera panned down towards the massive woman's feet. As she walked across vast fields of farmlands, crops shot out of the ground. Chuck Stephens had spent his entire life in a city. His only experience with farmland was from films. But he suspected that even those who had been born and bred on the prairie would be blown away by the yield of the crops. The fields began to look like the wet fantasy of a farmer who had fallen on hard times. The growth seemed not only remarkable, but absurd. They seemed so big and full that Chuck wondered if any farming equipment would be able to even reap them.

And it wasn't just crops. Trees grew taller, grass turned greener, flowers bloomed and flourished. Anything that was dead found new life. At one point the camera panned along a highway, watching lines of vibrant wild flowers sprout rapidly along the road as the woman passed. There were some people still on the highway, some with their phones, clearly unsure which was worth filming, the giant woman or the vegetation.

The reporter made no mention of this, perhaps too awed to notice, but Lanard saw that the Giantess left no footprints behind her as she walked. Where ever her feet landed looked almost completely undisturbed, as if she were walking on air. But how was that possible? He had felt the impact of her steps the past two days. He could SEE the impact on the camera as dust puffed into the air and wind kicked from her passage, ruffling trees, billowing billboards, and flowing through plains of grass. But where there should be a massive crater in the shape of her boots...was nothing. No damage. Had it always been that way? From his confides within the city, he couldn't be sure.

As with the other days, the giant woman simply moved too fast to keep up with and the few news choppers following her were quickly left in her dust. But it was again made clear: She had to be heading for the Great Lakes. Each appearance she had visited them. Now was certainly looking to be no different.

Chuck flipped through the channels in hopes of finding a news station that was live and had footage of her.

…

There were four Great Lakes and you made a beeline for the one that smelled the worst: Lake Erie. This poor body of water languished, the life within it suffocating. It cried out for you like an infant demanding nourishment. You felt a wrench in your heart and tried to hurry your pace. When at last you stood at the edge of its shore, you reached into the wicker basket and extracted on of the vials and unscrewed it. Then, you bent down and carefully poured the contains into the water.

…

An image of the giant woman filled the screen just as began to pour something into the waters of Lake Erie. At once, the lake appeared to glow a deep cyan color. A dark brownish green color seemed to reek out from the water and into the air. As soon as it appeared, however, it was gone.

The reporter, who had been commenting up to the point of the giant woman bending over to pour something into the lake, was now completely silent. Chuck watched as Lake Erie seemed to literally come alive, or rather be reborn. A brilliance sheen came off the lake in the new morning sun and the water seemed clear and fresh.

“What did she just do?” Jacob asked quietly.

“Cleaned the lake would be my guess.” Lanard Glass replied. That strange aura of calmness still surrounded him.

“Why would she do that?”

Lanard only shrugged.

…

You squat down, carefully pulling your dress up a little, and examine the water. The smog is gone and you no longer smell it. The water has a rich color and you feel the growth of the flora below its surface flourishing. The lake sings, just as the crops had, and you find yourself again eager to join their chorus. But you seal your lips and simply smile. You lean forward, stripping one of your gloves off, and delicately trace a finger across the surface. Specks of dirt, remnants of work in the Valley, fleck off the tip of the finger. The fauna eagerly consume these shimmering specks and what they didn't eat fell to the bottom and was nibbled on by the flora. Both would flourish from this boon.

Slipping the glove back on, you stand and smile at the fruits of your work. It was only the beginning of what you had planned. And it had been broadcast across the planet, just as you hoped it would. The sounds of blades cutting through the air still surrounded you as your children closely followed, cautious.

You turn, wanting to move on. Then, you just see the tiny flying vehicles before your eyes and halt yourself. A cramp of horror grips your heart. If you hadn't seen them...you would have...

Something happens. It interrupts your thoughts. A flash. An explosion. Several of them. You feel nothing but the happen right before your eyes, startling you. Instinctively, you step backward. Your foot steps into the soft ground in the lake, your heel digging into the earth instead of being supported. You lose your balance.

Panic flares into your mind and it is with great effort that you keep your arms from instinctively pinwheeling. Instead you bring them together, hugging the basket towards your chest and try to regain your footing. You can't, and you feel yourself tipping over.

Screams. You hear them. Lots of them. From a city nearby. Directly in the path you are falling.

NONONONONONONO!

…

Chuck's heart stops as he sees the missiles flying through the air.

The camera man aboard the helicopter filming had panned out as the giant woman stood, clearly expecting her to move on. She had begun to but then stopped. That's when Chuck saw the lines of smoke drifting across the blue sky. Then, he saw the flames. It was impossible to tell if the missiles had actually hit her or not, but she reacted nonetheless. Hastily, she took a step back, her foot going into the lake. Immediately, she began to lose her balance and began to fall...

...directly towards the city of Cleveland.

The reporter found his voice again, screaming, “Oh God!”.

A great dust cloud was kicked up. It hauntingly reminded Lanard Glass of when the Twin Towers collapsed, covering the city in a thick cloud. The dust came tearing towards the helicopter and within seconds all visuals from the feed were gone.

But only for a moment...

Just as the smog cloud from the lake, this was gone almost as soon as it appeared. A piercing ray of golden light shone through the cloud, almost seeming to force it away. Then, the television showed something that all of them would remember for the rest of their lives.

She hung in the air. Suspended, horizontally, in a blanket of light like a beacon directly over the city of Cleveland. The woman herself was now entirely invisible, her entire form outlined by the powerful light that radiated from her. For a moment, one agonizing moment, nothing happened. Then, she slowly began to rise up into the sky.

Something else was happening. The camera barely saw it at first but must have glimpsed it out of the corner of his eye because the camera suddenly panned away from the floating giantess and towards the ground. The flora were reacting. No, not just reacting...being birthed. Trees sprouted along the shore, disregarding the rocks. Ones that already existed grew taller and extended their branches farther. Along the outer limits of Cleveland, a forest seemed to be spawning with countless trees shooting up from the ground. Even within the city something was happening. Vines traced along the skyscrapers, vibrant and colorful flowers blooming along them. Not a single building, so far as Chuck Stephens could see, had collapsed.

Finally, there was something else. A pulse. Hard and fast. It did not rattle the building. It did not tear across the sky. But everyone in the lunchroom of the Daily Occurrences felt it.

A heart beat.

The beacon of light slowly sailed higher and higher.

Without waiting a second longer, Chuck Stephens broke into a sprint. He heard Lanard call after him but ignored him. He hurried past the countless desks and slammed himself against the door that lead to the stairwell and tore up the stairs. Once he reached the roof, he saw her in the distance. Her glowing body was indeed flying high into the sky, possibly already leaving the atmosphere. The quick pulse still rang in his ears but it was fading.

She was leaving.

In an instant he understood. She was hurt. But not physically. Worse. Images of the life blossoming around her as she walked filled his mind. The smile on her face as she had moved and looked upon the world around her. All at once he realized that she had not meant harm. Why was she here? He had no earthly clue. But he knew, just simply knew with aching certainty, that she was not a threat to anyone on this planet. And if she left, he would never learn why she had come. He would never hear her voice again and understand her words. The thought filled him with a powerful despair that he had never felt before and a great cry was rising from his lungs.

“EVANORA!” He screamed. “DON'T GO! PLEASE DON'T GO!”

…

Your heart. Your aching, throbbing, pained heart. It raced with incomprehensible woe. Tears flowed freely from your eyes as your body hung in the air. You had just barely managed to keep yourself from crushing your poor children as you had fallen. They had attacked. They were still afraid. They still did not want you. All the beautiful life that had flourished around you had been for naught. You had stifled an urge to sing twice on the way to this wondrous little lake but now you held back wails of sorrow.

You began to lift yourself. All was lost. The hope was gone. It was time to leave. You never should have come in the first place. Every time led to the same outcome. Why had you been so foolish to expect anything else? Your flight should be rapid, but the echoes of the joy slow your departure. You had felt such happiness mere moments ago. Why were you doomed to a life of solitude? Why could not live among what you created? You had so many wonderful, beautiful children and had never held a single one in your arms.

It didn't matter. This was simply the way of things. And there was nothing you could do about it. The universe was cruel. It made your children suffer from hunger, disease, cold. They cried out for help and you, for all your strength and power, found yourself unable to help, useless. You were not immune to the cruelty. You were forced to watch as those you loved languished without mercy. Your poor children could do nothing about it, but perhaps you could. You could break the cycle: never allow anything else to grow in the Garden. Rip out anything that tried straight from the root. Allow everything that already was to wither. After that, there would be nothing, and there would be no more suffering.

Except for you, of course. You'd still be alone. But there'd be no precious children. No blossoming flowers. No life of any kind. You wouldn't be a gardener anymore. Just a ruthless winnower, eliminating everything that was unneeded. And you knew, deep in your heart, that whatever agony you felt now would be minor in comparison to destroying everything, even if it meant your children would never suffer again.

But whatever choice you would make later, you had made one now.

EVANORA

You stopped.

DON'T GO PLEASE DON'T GO

A voice, full of despair you had not heard since leaving Avakon, rang out loudly for you. But this time, you knew the voice. It was your Little Star, Chuck Stephens. Immediately, you felt his despair, his desperation. For the second time in your long life, you found yourself hesitating as one of your children begged for your to stay.

You began to tremble, your emotions running rampant. Your heart was pounding with equal amounts of pain and guilt. You didn't want to leave, but you weren't sure you could bear the rejection of your sweet children. They were afraid. Of course they were. How could they not be? But their fear of you. Their rejection of you still cut you deeply into your soul no matter how much you sympathized.

Could you be so cruel a second time? To leave when you a voice had so dearly begged you stay. Avakon had been hard. But there had been a lesson there. The Avakonians had destroyed their home and slaughtered their people. The only way they could truly change was if they chose to. That was why you had left. There was no such solace here. You were leaving because you had given up. Succumb to sorrow. A part of you still dearly wanted to believe that there was still hope here.

But your heart...your heart hurt so very very much...

An agonizing choice needed to be made...

…

Chuck Stephens watched as the beacon hovered motionless in the air. She had heard him. He knew she had. Just knew she had.

He tried to say something else. To scream anything more. But whatever power he'd found was spent and his legs began to wobble under him.

Several minutes went by. For Chuck, it felt like hours.

Without warning, the beacon suddenly brightened in a blinding burst of light.

Then, it disappeared.

Evanora was gone.

An emptiness, that was both deep but heavy, hit him and his legs buckled underneath him. He couldn't move. He only stared where the beacon had been until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Lanard's voice barely reached his consciousness. Chuck offered no response. He continued to stare out into the distance.

When Lanard, Jacob, and Gerald eventually took him in their arms to carry him back downstairs, he didn't resist.

Only sobbed.