Guild of The Future

Caliana had, against her best effort, become fond of these two. She was an anthropologist by study, and this way she’d also learn about Earth computer maintenance, but objectivity doesn’t work this close.

Rainbow was a marvel of Feyrie ingenuity, and proceeded to be brilliant even though she could just live her life with marbled skin and be impressive. Lillian spoke of Nightingale like a friend, and Caliana knew there would not be another wielder any time soon.

And they were people. They bickered. They acted like they were smarter than each other. When they stopped, they taught each other—and Caliana—so much. History was so much harder to accept once you know what’s been lost.

And she couldn’t say any of it. Not to her friends, and definitely not to her family. Her friends would be angry that she had to let them die, but her family would lock her up for talking like her grandfather.

She wanted so badly to just go with them. Once she could feel the inklings of the bomb, just stay. But self-preservation is more instinct than choice, and before she knew it, she was in the middle of her parents home, collapsing from something she couldn’t even name.

Her father held her as she cried. He didn’t speak. He didn’t stare. He just held her.

“I let them die.”

“And it is a terrible burden to suffer.”

Then something changed, and Caliana’s tears were gone.

“They’re alive?”

Caliana held her breath with everyone else, unsure of what was really going on. Then Cassandra fell, then Void and Nightingale fell. Rainbow started hovering, pulling light from the bomb. Rainbow was now glowing.

“What are you doing?” Cassandra asked.

“If this won’t work, tell me now.”

“What are you doing!” Cassandra yelled.

Void threw the bomb on Rainbow's order.

As everyone else screamed, Cassandra watched Rainbow intently, and Caliana watched Cassandra. She didn’t deserve to watch Rainbow’s solution when she had to reverse it.

Eventually, something burned bright out of the window. Caliana caught a glimpse of Rainbow, slightly singed and clearly exhausted.

“Nuclear energy is radioactive, and radioactivity is so heavily connected to light, So I hoped I could hold it until the fungal clean-up activated.”

“That feels so fucking wrong, but holy shit!!!” Nightingale pulled Rainbow back inside for a hug.

“So it’s a dud?” Void asked.

“It should be. I’d like to oversee the disposal, maybe remove some of the parts…”

Caliana wanted to listen, but it hurt just too much, because she had to choose reality. At least she got to see the happy ending.

She pulled Cassandra away.

“What are you going to do with her?” Void asked, turning everyone’s attention towards both of them. They were ready to kill her for a stranger.

Not a stranger.

A friend whom only she knew how much this woman done for all of them.

“What needs to be done.”

“What needs to be done is that she needs to be protected.” Void began walking toward them.

“I’m so sorry.”

Caliana bent her knees as she fell to her podium in the court. She’d acted as a witness once when she was still a child. Last time she’d tried to stick the landing.

“Who allowed Caliana Kristalia to act as defense?” the judge asked.

Caliana did not ignore the fact they referenced her parent related to a renowned criminal, rather than the honored soldier they referenced when she was sent to the guild.

“There are no laws that the person who turned them in is banned from acting as defense or prosecution in their trial,” she revealed.

“Of course there isn’t. Why did you feel the need to apply as the defense, Caliana?”

“I believe Cassandra’s actions benefit the Kronos.”

Cassandra gave a surprised expression from her own podium.

“I assume you came with evidence supporting this claim.”

Caliana made a portal, bringing her notes from the clerk’s desk to right in front of the judge. He began sorting through it.

“You peeked,” one of the counselors accused.

“Only at the future without my presence to ascertain the likely state of the current timeline.”

The judge leveled a glare at her.

“Cassandra,” he turned to the accused, “Do you have anything to say in your own defense?”

“I could not let them die,” Cassandra pleaded.

“They wouldn’t be the first,” the judge turned back to Caliana, “And what of your defense?”

“Historical preservation.”

“On what grounds?”

Caliana pulled a recording crystal from her pocket, dropping it through a portal onto the podium.

“The computer maintenance is finished,” Rainbow said, “Like apparently it was never meant to.”

“It’s starting to get annoying how often you bring that up,” Lillian replied.

“She was our friend!”

Caliana paused the scene.

“Please no.”

“Cali…” Thysta, her first mother, leveled a stare.

“She’s right,” Caliana said.

“And you are making up for your betrayal.”

With Thysta’s steadying hand on her shoulder, Caliana played the scene.

“She was your friend,” Lillian countered, “She was just polite to me.”

“I considered you a friend, Lillian.”

“That’s probably better,” Rainbow floated up with anger, “At least you didn’t think the world of someone who planned to let you die.”

“I… You know what, fuck this!” Lillian grabbed Rainbow by the wrist, “If she was going to let you die, she doesn’t deserve your mourning. Save your screams for when she comes back and kills all of us.”

“Where are we going?”

“We still need xenobotanicum for when parts need replacing. I know where to get it, and we’re going to plant it in the garden. If you’re still angry by then, we’ll go to the training room and you can try to beat me up.”

“Try? You make it sound like I won’t succeed.”

“You won’t. I’ve seen you fight. You’re too defensive.”

Caliana was about to make the scene follow them, but Thysta held her back. The computer came to life, lighting up the monitor.

“What is this supposed to do?” Caliana whispered.

“The Heroes’ Guild has returned?” it asked, barely audible through damaged speakers, “I will update the files.”

“The computer on the grounds of the Guild headquarters will be restored by the work of Rainbow Riser and Lillian Woe. That computer has genetic records of every member of the Guild, including now those in the time of Pax Inter Mundorum. The computer will record any hidden relations between the two eras, something we have only been able to speculate until now. With that knowledge, we can remain aware of who in Earth’s age of heroes must be preserved.”

“So a computer and knowledge is worth risking the multiverse? No—”

“Historical preservation is not all of my defense, your honor, of course.”

He again looked through the documents.

“Of course not. I wish to see your account on Tetra and Flare.”

Caliana held down a gasp.

“Who is Flare?” Cassandra asked.

“You will see.”

Spark stood around in civilian garb next to a woman in unseasonably warm clothes. They leaned on the railing of a river.

“So why are we out here?” the woman asked.

“Did you hear about that bright flash a few months ago?”

The woman nodded.

“Well, that was Rainbow defusing a bomb that was supposed to kill us.”

“Kill us?”

“Well not you,” Spark said, “You weren’t here, but someone wanted most of the Guild dead.”

“Good thing you found the bomb.”

“We didn’t.”

The woman gave a perplexed look.

“Maybe I was involved, but the reason we survived was someone we’ve started calling Revolve. She can loop through a day several times or something. It’s confusing.”

“Is she a member?”

“If she comes back, yeah, but I don’t even know if this conversation will ever happen.”

“What?” the woman cocked her head to the side on cofusion.

“You haven’t met our Kronos, have you?”

“I have not.”

Caliana clenched her fists.

“She knew there was a bomb,” Spark explained, “And she tried to stop Revolve from saving us. We were supposed to die.”

“That can’t be—”

“No, it’s right. Elva confirmed it from what she saw in her head. She’s pretty sure Void would survive, and if Puerile was in a constructed reality, he and anyone with him may have withstood it, but most of us can’t survive a nuclear bomb.”

“Will she be welcomed back?”

“By legal mandate, yes. The deal with the seven worlds not to remove us requires representatives from all worlds.”

“I see.”

“So, until she can offer alternative accommodations, Elva has made it law that we have to have at least two members outside of the building at all times, and one of them has to be one of me.”

“It would serve for better communication between those outside and inside.”

“Ugh.” Spark leaned back, “You’re right, but you don’t have to say it. You know it’s not actually fun being so far away from my other selves. It’s like having a limb cut off.”

“Better a limb than a head.”

Spark returned forward to glare at her companion.

“The original Tetra did the same you know,” the woman explained, “And so few people knew that Tetra meant four that they didn’t even question why she only brought three duplicates out at a time.”

Spark laughed.

“You’re better than Terrestrius, you know that.”

“I thought I was redundant with you around.”

“Yeah, sorry, Flare.”

Caliana paused the scene. She felt like a voyeur watching her friends’ private moments.

“The Master is still replaced,” Thysta said, making notes.

“Apparently Splash had rejected his advances. I suspect there was self-blame in the original timeline, but now it’s just bitterness.”

“And shame about not being involved in resolving such a disaster.”

Caliana nodded.

“I’m not sure if I should do this.”

“Why not?” her second mother, Kristalia, asked. Caliana hadn't wanted her involved, but Thysta asked.

“I don’t think they’d approve of me intruding on their lives,” she sighed.

Kristalia put a hand on her shoulder.

“You are saving them. You can apologize later, but for now, remember that you need to save them.”

Caliana took a deep breath, preparing for the next scene.

 “As you can see by this conversation, the increased safety protocols of the Guild are intact. The membership are no longer allowed to all be in the building at the same time. They will grow from merely a passion project of a young synerge, to a political force to be reckoned with, as they were always meant to.”

“And now that young synerge lives to helm that force. What if Flare’s admiration falters now that she meets them in reality instead of memory? They have already insulted her apparently.”

“They are talking. She is apologizing. Their bond will be real instead of fantasized.”

“That is an assumption. If we send you back, what will the conversation become? Flare is a Master, taught to do what is necessary for the greater good. Tetra, though descended from a master, believes only in what’s right. What happens when they speak of you, who tried to have Tetra killed by a bomb? What happens when you return to the guild, and the only one who can empathize with you is someone without other bonds?”

“Have me return with Cassandra, proof that they will not—cannot—be destroyed again.”

“So she can threaten the timeline again?”

“Under my custody, or the custody of whoever you send back to the Guild. A Kronos can catch and stop her from destroying the timeline again, but if she is innocent this time, then we have no reason to keep her here. Moreover, this is not the first time she has used her abilities in her lifetime. We have not had reason to remove her then, so why now?”

The judge stood up. Caliana refused to cower.

“It is not your place, grandchild of Jonthane Kristalia, to question the laws of our people within this court.” He sat back down. “Now, do you have any more arguments?”

She had a few smaller ones proving the timeline wouldn’t implode, but she needed something stronger, the strongest possible argument.

“Preservation of the Kronos.”

“Excuse me?”

“There is a threat to the timeline, that we are unable to stop, that Cassandra’s action make no longer a threat, thus preserving our people, and our ability to maintain the timeline.”

“So you want my assistance with the new Guild,” a dark man said as he offered a cup of tea to Elva.

“I know you already paid for the building, Shepherd, and I owe you for that, but my kids.”

“Your kids? You’ve grown rather attached to them have you?”

Elva nodded.

“I get why Harold and Parthenon chose to teach a little better now, but I’m grateful not to deal with teenagers.”

Shepherd laughed.

“I’m not asking for money,” Elva continued, “I’ve just realized these aren’t the heroes I grew up with, and they need the same guidance I did starting out.”

“You need a safe house.”

Elva nodded.

“We can’t keep everyone in the same place, but we can’t make it public that we feel unsafe.”

“Why do you feel unsafe, Kit?”

He leaned toward her like a parent.

“There was a bomb,” Elva explained, “It was barely prevented by Fey ingenuity and a woman from before your time.”

“How did she help?”

“She relived the day, over and over. I read her mind, several times apparently, and it was torture. We owe her a great debt if the Kronos ever let her free.”

“Why did the Kronos capture her?”

“Apparently we weren’t supposed to survive.”

The cup in Shepherd’s hand shattered, cutting Elva’s cheek, though it healed a moment after.

Caliana paused the feed.

“What is their relationship?”

“Parental, it would seem,” Thysta said, “The rate of healing indicates she’s a Champion, which means she’s probably a descendant of his lover.”

Caliana had seen the records on that family.

“Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

“Because she changed her name and gets her looks from the other parent. I wouldn’t have been able to guess it if she hadn’t healed from the cuts that fast.”

Caliana continued the feed.

“I’m sorry—” Shepherd started.

“Don’t worry, I barely felt it.” Elva rubbed at her cheek.

“Did the Kronos in the Guild know you weren’t supposed to survive?” Shepherd asked.

Elva looked away.

“El—”

“Yes, Caliana knew, and so did I. I didn’t know when it would happen, but I knew our days were numbered, and what was at risk if I prevented it.”

“The Kronos was just going to let you all die.”

“So was I. If this hangs on any head, it’s the elder one. That’s what you always told me.”

Shepherd now looked away.

“Your grandmother was interested in having a building on her property again. I’ll ask if she would be interested in housing heroes.”

“Almost 5 years after the Heroes’ Guild is destroyed, Kronos are no longer able to enter Earth by our own means. Exiting is likewise impossible.”

The counselors barely acknowledged her words.

“We know this is facilitated by the man called Shepherd, but we did not know why. Elva Ferrin had a relationship with him, familial in nature. When she died in the Heroes’ Guild explosion, it was like losing his own child.”

“Conjecture,” a counselor finally announced.

“With Elva alive, defending my actions, Shepherd has no reason to enact vengeance once he realizes our hand in allowing this tragedy.”

“That’s no reason to preserve the entire Guild. If we allow Elva to survive, then we regain access to the world.”

Caliana took a deep breath, dropping another crystal on the podium.

“This isn’t a recording,” the judge said.

“That is the information the Guild’s computer had on Elva Ferrin, previously a member of the original Heroes’ Guild. You saw how she cared for the Guild members already. Between her and Shepherd, which one do you think would damage the timeline further in their wrath?”

As each judge and counselor read the file, their eyes turned haunted.

1 week after she and Cassandra left, Caliana brought both of them into her room in the Guild Headquarters.

“There will be a negotiation with Elva about us sharing this room, but considering the odds of this building still existing, this is fantastic.”

Cassandra looked at her with awe.

“I know, Oz is an intimidating place, especially with how rare visitors are. Apparently we were an inspiration for several dreams created by the Pan.”

Cassandra tackled her into a hug.

“I should not even be alive, and you have returned me to people I care about. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Caliana’s back,” Void said from her door, “With a friend.”

Cassandra’s clothes had been changed, so of course he wouldn’t recognize her from the back.

“So false alarm?” Alter asked.

“That depends on what happens next,” Sprite said as they appeared just in front of Void.

Caliana pushed away from Cassandra, and stepped forward.

“I understand I have much to answer for, and I asked for someone else to be assigned to the Guild due to likely tensions from my presence, but I suspect they wanted to punish me.”

“Why?” Rainbow asked, flitting just above Void’s head. Most of the team was appearing in the doorway.

“I believe it is because of me,” Cassandra said, finally turning around.

“Revolve!” they all yelled, storming in to check on her. Caliana looked away.

“She is under my custody, officially. The changes she made to the timeline were considered negligible enough to let her off with a warning, but she probably won’t be allowed something that great again, though the whole team is unlikely to die now.”

“So she gets to keep us alive in case of emergency?”

“Yes.”

“How did she get out scot-free?”

“Being bound to me for life is not scot-free,” Caliana said, “And make no mistake that that is the case, but the reason you were kept alive was simple cost-benefit analysis. Cassandra keeping you all alive preserved more of the timeline than it damaged.”

“But now she’s a packaged set with you?”

“Yes.”

“Forever?”

“As long as Cassandra lives, I am required to monitor her, which is why I need to ask Elva for an extra bed.”

“We’ll get it handled,” Splash said. “In the meantime let’s move this meeting downstairs.”

Everyone agreed, and left Caliana and Cassandra, except for Rainbow.

“I don’t forgive you,” Rainbow said, “I may never forgive you for what you did. Don’t try to talk to me unless absolutely necessary.” she bowed to Cassandra. “Congratulations on your exoneration.”