Return of the Hero 6 - Graves

It was cold out today, and it had nothing to do with the weather. Lucas shuffled forward, leaning gently on his cane as he walked through the graveyard, feet shuffling. Most of the headstones were covered in leaves and dust, the dead in the past few years piling up to the point they likely didn't have many visitors, or those visitors who may have come lay in the ground as well.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the oak trees surrounding this part of the graveyard, rough, uneven ground giving way to solid concrete and the trickling of water from a fountain. Just before him, in the middle of all the headstones, stood a monument. It was tall, an obelisk made of black marble, names carved all across the surface and inlaid white. A plaque of bronze sat at the very base of the obelisk, small fountains spewing water away from each of the four corners.

"There wasn't really enough left to find for a proper grave," Elizabeth whispered from behind. Lucas twitched a little at her words, gaze focused mostly on the obelisk itself. His spiritual senses were very carefully cracked open; he could hear the wailing of the dead, the urging of the natural earth spirits that inhabited this place of mourning. If he opened himself up more it, like everything else in this world, would be overwhelming.

"So you left their names on the monument?" Lucas asked the question without any judgement, merely curiosity.

"By the time things calmed down, and George and I could find a proper time to grieve, too much time had passed. It felt wrong, to give them special treatment when so many others died in that first year." Elizabeth admitted softly, voice as cold as the air she radiated. Lucas shivered as the temperature dropped another degree, Elizabeth's mood souring.

"Mom would have liked that," he said, moving to stand at the base of the obelisk, looking up at the thirty foot structure. The plaque read; 'In honor of the fallen, during the years of the first Awakenings. May their sacrifices never be forgotten.' "Dad would have wanted a statue made of him though. Pity you didn't get to spread his ashes atop Mount Everest, like he wanted."

"I had forgotten he used to say that," Elizabeth had a smile in her voice, now, the temperature rising just a touch. Lucas ran a hand through his hair, eyes skimming over the names. "Mom and Dad are-"

"I want to find them myself. Thank you, Liz," Lucas did not wait for her response, circling around the obelisk, looking at all the names, searching for any he recognized. He didn't. But he did hear some of them. They pressed up against him, their spiritual presences poking at his skin and trying to leech off some of his warmth.

The peace his magic, his aura, radiated attracted them. Even shut down as it was, he couldn't hide it in any significant way to the eyes of the spirits. Unlike mortals, spirits were difficult to hide from.

His jaw clenched as his fingers traced names upon the obelisk, enduring the feeling of the dead crawling upon his skin as he searched and searched, whispering names to himself until, finally, on the eastern-facing side of the obelisk, he found them. Gerald Ward, and Alicia Ward. His parents. Lucas' throat clenched, the temperature dropping further as Elizabeth came to stand behind him. His eyes closed, head bowing as he opened his spiritual senses up a little bit more.

He hadn't expected to get this choked up, eyes burning and words remaining stuck on his tongue. He let out a long, slow breath to collect himself, and reached out with his soul.

Were they here? Did they still linger in this place? Or did they linger elsewhere? Just a touch of magic, a drop of spiritual effect, flowed from the tips of his fingers, touching their names as he was, his soul calling out to them.

The answer was brief. Though there was little to no effect in the physical world, within the spiritual light filtered through the veil between death and life. The spirits that crowded around him, desperate for comfort, were immediately cowed, clearing a path for whoever would answer his call. There were two. Two little feelings that were so distant he could barely make them out.

Pride. Acceptance. Peace. Unshed tears burned his eyes as he took a deep, shuddering breath, cutting off his magic and standing slowly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Elizabeht stood silently behind him, her gaze never leaving his back.

He wasn't ready to call them forth to truly speak to their spirits. Nor was he sure they were ready to speak to him. That was the feeling he got, and he accepted it. There hadn’t been any judgement there, but they were clearly doing something, or waiting for something on his end. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be on the opposite end of that.

For a few more moments he stood there, slowly closing himself off to the spiritual world, trying to silence the incessant chattering of the other side. "Thank you, for bringing me here," he said finally, turning to his sister. She shrugged and patted his shoulder, a bit of frost coating her hair and expression firm.

"Of course. Do you need a few more moments?"

"No. I don't think I'll find them here; a grave isn't where they would stick near." As he said the words, he realized that was the truth. His  parents, their parents, wouldn't hang around a dusty gravestone or monument dedicated their death. Mom would probably be found back in her old garden, or perhaps in Elizabeth's or George's house from time to time. He would bet Dad's spirit would linger in the mountains, if it did at all. They probably wanted him to visit them there, rather than call them to him.

"Come one, then," Liz said, already turning on her heel and stalking out of the graveyard, clearly eager to get out of the place. A shiver ran down Lucas' spine as he waved off another darker soul, tugging on his ear incessantly as if it needed to say something. He didn't blame her one bit, and hurried to catch up.

Neither of them spoke until they slid into her car, that same Mercedes as before, though this time she drove. "We'll need to work on your control," she said.

"What?"

"Your control." she said again as the car pulled out of the parking lot, eyes fixed ahead. "You had light leaking from your fingers when you touched the monument. Just for a moment, a brief spark of gold, like an ember from a campfire. Can't have that happening; magic responds to emotion, and you can get in big trouble if it goes off when you get mad or sad or anything else." Lucas frowned, looking at his fingers. That shouldn't have happened. That type of magic wasn't supposed to have a physical effect.

Then again, what did he know? He'd been in Heaven. At least he had an excuse for such a thing happening - what did they say he had, d-class holy magic?

"And how should I do that?" he asked.

"George and I will teach you when we have time. There are also classes at the BSA headquarters, or specific superhero guilds and teams offer support for new heroes. Since you have holy magic, you could also go to a church and receive instruction there, but I don't recommend it. George and I will be best." She said, making a face when she mentioned the churches.

"Oh yeah?"

"As for the superhero guilds, you might as well join ours if you're going to do that. They'll also make you work with them for a time as payment for the teaching. Laws haven't gotten around to being firm around superheroes, so contracts tend to be exploitative. The government is, well, the government, and as for the churches they're fanatics." She explained, shaking her head as they pulled up to a stoplight. "Especially that new church, Solarianism. They've been gaining popularity, but they're odd. Harmless, really, but fervent and odd."

Just the thought of entering a church as he was now made his stomach twist in uncomfortable ways.

"Well why would I go with lesser options? You two are the bigshots, so I'll take you up on that offer, if you don't mind," he grinned, hiding his discomfort. He'd have to visit some of those churches eventually though, just to have blackmail on some of the people he'd met in Heaven. History books and mythological theory would be great blackmail material too. He was certain Heracles’ myths were far different than the actual man.

Plus, having Elizabeth and George teach him would have the added benefit of giving him deeper insight into their own magic, too.

"Hey, question, was that you making it so chilly in the graveyard?" He asked suddenly. Elizabeth's cheeks colored a little, and she coughed.

"I have trouble with little expressions like that. That's about as cold as it’ll get around me when I'm not fighting, but...yeah. At my level of power, it's less about having enough power and magic to kill things, and more about desperately holding onto the sheer amount of mana pushing through you without losing control."

Lucas snorted. Yeah, he'd had that problem too, way back when he first started. Now he was doubly certain that letting them “teach” him was the right choice. He looked out the window. That would be a good segue into him revealing his past to them, he figured. If he didn’t do it sooner.

***

It took only a few hours to get Lucas' junk out of storage and loaded into Elizabeth's car; mostly because he didn't have much. Some books. Some clothes. A few knickknacks and paraphernalia he had no attachments to anymore. Some family items he'd go over tonight, while he was alone.

That left plenty of time in the rest of the day for Lucas to begin interrogating Elizabeth about the world, specifically her take on the world, over lunch. What he meant by 'her take on the world,' he didn't really have an idea, but he just wanted her...opinions on things that the internet didn't provide.

Lord knew the internet couldn't be trusted for completely unbiased opinions.

Or, at least, that had been the intention. But the moment Lucas tasted his burger from the little drive-thru restaurant once they got back to her penthouse, all thoughts of conversation fled his mind as he inhaled the salty, greasy fries and way too fatty and greasy cheeseburger.

"'s so good," he moaned, stuffing nearly half the burger into his face in one bite, savoring the delicious unhealthiness of it all. Years of enduring Heracles’ health food - designed for building muscles! - had dulled his tastebuds to the finer, more junk food-oriented things in life. Now he was getting them back, and the experience was almost religious.

"It’s that good?" Elizabeth asked, amusement plain as day as she munched on fries,

"I had a cheeseburger in the hospital. It doesn't count as real food." Lucas said around a mouthful of meat, bun, cheese, and whatever else they put on the simple meal. He stuffed a few fries into his face, sucking down part of his soda to wash it down.

"I thought you said the food there was better than expected?"

"It was. Still doesn't compare." he mumbled. Elizabeth smirked at him, leaning against the kitchen table and popping another fry in her mouth.

"I can't eat this heavy stuff much, anymore," she admitted. Lucas didn't respond, busy stuffing his face as he was. A few more moments of silence passed, and Elizabeth sighed, setting down her half-eaten burger.

"Want to learn some magic?"

Lucas immediately bobbed his head, chewing the rest of his burger and licking the wrapper - having to stop himself from downing the rest of the fries like a shot, and licking the salt off the container. That hit a spot he hadn't known needed hitting.

"Hell yes, show me some magic," he managed out, swallowing what he had, choking, and washing it down with soda before repeating it again. Elizabeth chuckled a little at him, shaking her head as she leaned forward.

"Hold out your hands," she instructed, laying her hands flat on the table, palms up. Lucas did as he was told, feeling a little silly but letting her do her stuff. Then, thinking better of it, he wiped his hands on the cheap paper napkins that came with the meal, and laid his hands flat again. "When you touch magic, you should feel something within you; it varies from person to person. For me, it feels like a blizzard, all icy and cold, swirling in my chest. For George, according to him, it's like touching a tornado. The first step to magic is learning what yours feels like."

Lucas nodded slowly, watching his sister carefully rather than listening to her instructions. It was good to know that the basics were not lost on the modern world - what they called magic was indeed personal, and tied to the soul, but that is what made her example so alarming. Elizabeth's spiritual essence felt like a blizzard to her? That was...harsh.  

"Close your eyes," she instructed, rolling her eyes at him. He smiled sheepishly and closed his eyes, playing the role of the eager student, ready to touch something as fantastical as magic for the first time. Elizabeth placed a finger on each of his palms, pressing down firmly to keep his hands in place. "Dad taught us to meditate. That's how George and I got ahold of our powers so quickly. Meditate, feel it out, that new, foreign thing in your chest."

Lucas only briefly reached inside of himself, feeling the power resting there; dormant yet ready to move at a moment's notice, curling around his heart like a dragon about its horde. Yet his power had nothing to do with actual dragons; those were beings he did not have the strength to yet be compared to. Not true dragons. The little babies didn’t count.

"I don't feel anything," he lied, frowning.

"Quit getting distracted, then. Focus, Luke," she insisted. Lucas sat still for a moment longer, feeling the chill seeping into his palms from his sister's magic, daring not to actually extend his senses further. It did feel skewed, pushed too far in one direction rather than the truth of what her power actually was.

"Do you feel it yet?" she asked after a few minutes.

"Maybe? I'm not sure," he lied again.

"How does it feel? What's the first image, the first thought that popped into your head when you looked inward?" Elizabeth pressed. Oh, neat. The process really is the same. he realized.

"I'm not sure. I saw a sunbeam," he said softly, answering honestly this time. It wasn't what he had seen the first time he'd looked inward, under the guidance of the Archangel Michael, and not what he saw now, but it was close enough.

"You saw a sunbeam?" Lucas opened his eyes at the question, rolling them, pretending to be annoyed at the simple question.

"Told you I wasn't sure. It was a sunbeam coming through the window of our old home, illuminating dad's chair. Probably just because I'm still thinking about this morning," he explained further. "Was that magic?"

"Maybe. Try pulling it from your chest, to the tips of your fingers."

"How?"

"I don't know. It was instinctive for me," Liz said with a sheepish smile. Lucas stared at her blankly. Yep. She was certainly his sister, alright. "The result should look like this," she said, holding out her hand and letting frosty mist drift from her fingers. Lucas latched onto that with his senses, making the proper noises of interest as the mist drifted down onto the tabletop. This close, he could get an even better sense of his sister’s magic, and figure out a better way to approach the topics necessary.

"Hearing about it is one thing," he said, reaching out to touch the mist as it pooled on the table. It was cold to the touch, clinging to his skin and reminding him, again, of a blizzard. Cold and angry. "But seeing it is entirely another."

"It is," she said softly.

"I bet you're great at parties," Lucas added, smirking.

"What?"

"Ice sculptures. Think about it. You could make a literal ice dragon. Children must love you. An entire army of snowmen; oh god! A snowball fight with you would be entirely too one-sided." Lucas wailed, slapping his forehead. "I'm going to have to come up with other ways to torment you in the winter! Sticking a snowball down the back of your shirt would only get me half frozen!"

"I don't think I've ever used my powers for anything like that." Elizabeth said, chuckling and shaking her head. Lucas gasped, appropriately dramatic, leaning back in his chair.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sister? The Elizabeth I know would have done so much - I can already think of a hundred different ways to have fun with ice powers. Snow days! Drifting my car in summer! Throwing George in snowbanks!" Lucas shook his head sadly, crossing his arms and clicking his tongue. "You disappoint me, Liz,"

"My powers aren't really...it's been a crazy time," she tried to defend herself, looking down at her hand. Lucas wisely kept his mouth shut, noticing the way her gaze drifted off, staring at the palm of her hand.

He slurped loudly on his soda, the ice within having melted. He looked down at it. Looked up at his siter. And smirked. Nah, forget tact.

"Hey, my ice has melted. Can you do me a solid?" He held out the plastic cup, shaking it for emphasis and Liz looked up at him blankly.

She flicked her fingers, and tiny chunks of ice flew into his face, peppering his skin like frigid raindrops. He cackled. She laughed.

"Get your own ice, I'm not an ice machine,"

"Debatable,"

And Lucas enjoyed the peace of the moment. This was what he had fought for. Moments just like this.