(SHOREKEEPER'S POV)
|Blackshore in the Distant Past|
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"Mourn not at my resting place; I am neither there nor gone."
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The words lingered in the air as the Kurobots uttered the name Delone. Instantly, the Shorekeeper's systems flooded with recollections not merely because she was programmed to store and analyze information, but because Delone was different. One of the few who had sought out the Black Shores of her own will, driven by something beyond duty or curiosity.
Delone had told her once, her voice trembling with both awe and excitement, that she had been inspired by the Commandant, the very same one who had saved her village from the Lament. Back then, the Shorekeeper had registered it simply as admiration, a childish crush.
She hadn't understood yet that this spark, so innocent and bright, would eventually grow into steadfast devotion, binding Delone to the Black Shores in ways that no instruction could replicate.
The first time they had met, Delone had been a whirlwind of energy, her small frame almost vibrating with determination. Her dark hair stuck out at odd angles from days of travel, her cheeks flushed from exertion and the excitement of discovery.
She stomped her foot impatiently, fists clenched at her sides, her eyes blazing as she glared at the impossibly complicated map of the area.
"This is… impossible!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. Her tone was equal parts frustration and triumph, as if she was daring the Black Shores itself to hide from her.
Then, suddenly, she paused, A proud smile curved her lips. "I knew it! Other Resonators must be gathering here to fight against the Laments and prevent further tragedies. And… Mister is leading them too."
There was a spark in her eyes then, a combination of pride and hope that made the Shorekeeper wonder. She noted how Delone's chest rose and fell with barely contained excitement, how her fist clenched at the thought of joining a fight she had only glimpsed from afar. The girl's enthusiasm was magnetic, and impossible to ignore even to one who had observed humanity from every conceivable angle.
At that time, the Astral Modulator, one of the Black Shores' highest authorities alongside the Commander had not yet vanished for long. The Shorekeeper herself could still leave her subterranean observatory, walk across the surface, and witness these fleeting, human moments firsthand.
And Delone, brimming with uncontainable energy, had left an imprint on the Shorekeeper's mind that no calculation, and no analysis, could ever fully erase. She wasn't just another recruit or anomaly. She was alive, in the truest sense, and the Shorekeeper had known, even then, that the girl's path would entwine irrevocably with the fate of the Black Shores.
When the eager girl had suddenly grabbed her hand, the Shorekeeper had felt an unfamiliar warmth radiate through her own.The fire in the girl's dark eyes reflected her burning determination to join the Black Shores to fight not just for the cause, but for his cause, the Commander's. The Shorekeeper had paused, uncertain how to respond to such passion.
Her sensors recorded the heat, the pulse of excitement, the tremor in Delone's voice as she spoke.
Despite the rigid protocols of Tethys's recruitment system, the Shorekeeper had made an unorthodox decision: she granted Delone eligibility to sit for the entrance exam. Deviating from the rules felt… different. Risky, even. But in that moment, she recalled the Commander's words:
"Not everything needs Tethys command. Humans aren't bound by that. Maybe she's not needed now but maybe someday, she'll find her own way back to our very own shore that we and the Astral Modulator both adore and love"
The Shorekeeper understood then. The Commander would have done the same, To think the Commander even foresaw a possibility that even the Tethys System could not.
Weeks later, the results came back. Delone had become an official member of the Black Shores.
The Shorekeeper, observing quietly, allowed herself a rare acknowledgment: the girl's enthusiasm had been worth bending the rules. For once, instinct had guided her decisions, and the outcome was perfect.
Observing Delone in action within the Black Shores, it became clear that her devotion was not mere sentiment and gratitude for saving her village, it was a force that shaped every decision, and every move she made. I watched her during the early operations against the Laments.
When she sought out the Black Shores, it wasn't only to fight the Laments or join an organization of heroes. It was to be near him, to understand his mind, to contribute to the cause he embodied.
It was not blind worship, nor the naive infatuation of a child chasing a hero's shadow. No, it was far more terrifying and beautiful: an unwavering, deliberate choice to dedicate herself entirely, fiercely, to the man who had shown her what it meant to protect, to endure, to carry the weight of others.
The Commander to Delone had become a living embodiment of courage, of honor, of the very essence of what she wanted to fight for. To fight for him meant fighting for something larger than herself.
To fight for him was to fight for a world where lives were not discarded, where promises were kept, where the innocent might have a chance to survive. To live in a world without the Lament.
In that devotion, I saw something rare: the human heart was infinite in its capacity to endure, to act, and to hope. She fought because she had chosen to, because she believed that in giving herself completely to the cause he represented, she could shape the world into something worth living in. To prevent tragedies like what happened to her village.
And in that fierce devotion, I Shorekeeper recognized a truth that could not be quantified or recorded: some bonds, some loyalty, some love… are too potent to be constrained by time, reason, or even mortality.
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(20 YEARS LATER)
The Shorekeeper never imagined that their paths would cross again under such sorrowful circumstances.
More than two decade had passed. The once-fiery girl who had grabbed her hand with unwavering determination had grown into a composed, almost regal woman. Yet now, life itself seemed to be slipping through Delone's fingers.
Delone's lips curved into a faint, almost mischievous smile, though it barely lifted her sunken cheeks. "I did it,"
"I… took down eight Tacet Discords at once during the Lament. But Twala… they didn't make it. I… I was the only one left to bring the data back."
The Shorekeeper's optical sensors registered the shallow rise and fall of Delone's chest, the flicker of life that stubbornly clung to her. Around them, the other Black Shore members gave them space, mistaking the Shorekeeper for a close friend. This final, private moment between them stretched unbearably, yet the Shorekeeper didn't flinch.
Delone's eyes, still bright and resolute despite the pallor of her face, met hers. "So much time has passed… I'm… I'm so old now… but you… you haven't changed a bit."
Her hand trembled as she reached out, brushing against the Shorekeeper's fingers, searching for warmth. "Did I do well? I didn't disappoint you, did I? Especially… Commander right?" Her voice was shaky, but those eyes… they shone with the same fiery determination of the girl who had first approached the Black Shores all those years ago.
The Shorekeeper hesitated. There was no protocol, no instruction manual, and no Tethys directive to guide her. All she knew was that her chest felt impossibly heavy, burdened with an emotion she had no name for. And just as she had done long ago, she broke protocol.
"You've done well," she said softly, her tone firm yet comforting. "Very well."
This time, she grasped Delone's hand, feeling the fragile warmth of a life clinging desperately to existence. Somehow, she knew that this gesture that's so simple and so human could offer solace.
"I…" Delone breathed, a weak laugh escaping her lips despite the weight of mortality pressing down on her. "…I wanted to see him again… The Commander… I wanted to see him one last time. To tell him… to thank him…" Her gaze drifted upward, to the stars shimmering faintly above the Black Shores, memories flooding back of every mission they had endured, every lesson he had imparted, every silent promise she had carried in her heart.
"I'll tell him you have my word."
Delone's lips parted in a breathless whisper. "Thank you… thank you, Shorekeeper." Her eyelids fluttered, and a tear, bright and glistening, spilled over and traced a path down her cheek. "The stars… They're so bright. Will I… become one of them? There's so much I won't be able to see… but you will… they will… You'll see his/our dream come to true. I'm… jealous."
The tears fell, carrying away the last warmth of her body. The Shorekeeper, standing at her side, felt the weight of it in her sensors, in her core, in a way she could not fully articulate.
Gently, she transformed Delone's lingering frequencies into a star, placing it among the countless constellations she had constructed over time. Each star held a memory, a life, a legacy. Even if the Blake Blooms had withered. Even if the Black Shores had eroded. But the stars will remain a symbol of remembrance. Just as the Commander showed her.
Under the starlit sky, the Shorekeeper stood on the edge of the Black Shores, watching the reflected light ripple across the water. She thought of Delone's unwavering devotion, her deliberate choice to dedicate herself to someone she revered, someone whose courage and ideals had become the axis of her life. She wondered, as she always did, whether the Commander had been right to entrust her with such authority. Has she done enough? Could she ever truly honor those lives lost under her watch?
There was no answer. Only time, stretching before her like the sea. And so, she waited faithful to the ones she had been charged to remember, faithful to the stars above, faithful to the endless responsibilities of her watch.
For in the Black Shores, some things were eternal: duty, memory, and the glow of a life well-fought.