TORIN YOUTH – CHAPTER 11: THE GUARDIAN (EPILOGUE)

Two weeks after the events on Helicon Island...

Atreus sits on a hill outside the Laiko inu village of Arimas Piinu, gazing up at the bright, cloudless sky.

He wears his usual Torinian shirt and trousers—only now a cloak, carefully stitched by the Laiko inus, rests across his shoulders. Beside him lies a bag of his belongings and a lute that carries the memories of his friends.

Leaning back, propped on his arms, he sings softly, longing reflected in his eyes.

“How far is the sky?” the bird asked the fox.

“Can you even climb above the highest rocks?”

“You may tease, yet even through the trees

the sun shines on those you mock,” grinned the fox.

The bird, who despised the fox, spread her wings to glide,

only to find there was no place to hide.

While tormenting the fox gave her glee,

the bird was blind to see—

she found joy only in a cage of her own making.

And yet her freedom was there for the taking.

You are free of your cage.

You are free of your cage.

I wish you would not be a prisoner to your rage.”

He falls into stillness, taking in the beauty and vastness of the sky.

The silence is broken as a voice calls out, “Hey, Atri!”

Atreus turns and is startled by the sight of a thirty-three-foot-tall kensha beast and a human girl riding it.

“Hey… Bia,” Atreus says, doing his best to sound unfazed.

“Today’s the big day, huh?” Bia asks, looking down at the boy. “You’re actually leavin’ the island.”

Atreus pauses, the weight of the decision settling on him.

“It is,” he says. “It’s time for me to move on. To make a story of my own in a place where it hasn’t already been written.”

The kensha beast lowers himself, allowing Bia to slide off his back.

“Who’s your friend?” Atreus asks, eyeing the wolf-like creature missing his right eye.

“This is Nosys,” Bia says, giving the beast an affectionate rub.

“We met him near Old Torin during the trial,” she adds. “We got off to a rough start, but he’s really not bad once you get to know him. Also, Khariklo put him on an extremely short leash, so he’s gotta be a good doggy—or I’m gonna tell on him.”

The beast scoffs.

“I only allow that pompous dridder to believe I’m bound by her leash,” Nosys says. “For tactical purposes.”

Atreus does a double take at the deep, rumbling voice.

“WOAH—HE CAN TALK?” Atreus blurts.

“Hmph,” Nosys laughs. “Yes, I can talk. Now ask Bia if she can shut up—that loud mouth never stops talking about you.”

“Hey, somethin’ wrong with havin’ a loud mouth?” Bia asks, feigning offense.

“Her loud mouth is always a welcome distraction for me,” Atreus says, smiling.

Bia grins widely, unashamed.

Atreus steps forward to face the towering beast.  “Nice to meet you, Nosys.”

“Same to you, Atreus,” the kensha beast replies.

“So…” he exhales, wanting to approach the topic delicately. “Atreus…”

“Hm?” the young man hums, waiting patiently.

Somberly, the kensha beast speaks. “As I told Bia at Khariklo’s home, I’m sorry to hear about Rhea. I’m sure my actions played a part in what took place.”

Atreus settles back onto the grass beside his belongings.

“Rhea owes everything she did to herself,” he says quietly.

Bia sits beside him in silence.

Nosys joins them, lying down near Bia.

A soothing breeze sweeps across the hills.

Atreus closes his eyes, peacefully enjoying it.

Nosys speaks gently, his voice deep and steady. 

“The Weaver of Fate says, ‘Fate is a guardian angel who ensures that no knot is beyond loosening—that no time passes without an opportunity for change.’”

Bia draws her knees to her chest, resting her arms on them. Tears well in her eyes.

“I’ll never forget that day, for as long as I live.” she says.

She closes her eyes, allowing the tears to fall.

Nosys sighs, grief heavy in his heart. “Does she still live?”

Atreus hesitates.

“Part of me hopes so,” he says, deeply conflicted. “But then again, Bia and I both know that I am the loose end that Rhea can’t abide.”

Atreus looks toward the village just beyond the hill.

“This is likely the first place she would come looking for me,” he says. “Yet another reason I have to go.”

“Are you afraid?” Bia asks, gently resting a hand on his leg.

Atreus nods. “To be honest, I am. But not of her eating me alive. What I fear is Rhea getting what she wants. I can’t let that happen.”

Nosys groans softly, sympathizing with Atreus.

“I was once like her,” he says. “After being cursed with intelligence by Khariklo, I sought to purge anything that made me feel vulnerable, believing it would make me strong. I could destroy anything… except my feelings. Those, I could only bind and bury beneath my rage.”

Atreus looks at Nosys, taking in his age and the scars of countless battles.

“How did you get beyond it?” he asks. “Perhaps there’s still hope for Rhea.”

“I gave myself permission to be weak,” Nosys says. “I’m not where I want to be yet, and at times I miss the bliss of ignorance—but I’m beginning to understand the strength that lives in weakness.”

Atreus contemplates the kensha beast’s words as his eyes settle on a flower at his feet, leaning against his sandal.

“Bia,” he says, “how was Leon’s funeral?”

The girl smiles softly, answering, “Difficult… but beautiful. I made sure everyone brought lots of flowers.”

She tucks her wild black hair behind her right ear and continues.

“They held a much bigger funeral for Rhea,” Bia adds. “Some of them still refuse to believe their precious Golden Child is really gone. And of course, they blame you for everything—no matter what I say.”

“Yeah, no surprise there,” Atreus laughs quietly. “Could you imagine what would happen if I tried to return home without Rhea? It wouldn’t be pretty. At least my dad is free from his ties to me and my mother now.”

“A-ha!” Bia’s eyes widen as she remembers something.

“Atri,” she says, “was that song I heard you singin’ the same one Cadmeia sang in the forest?”

“Indeed it was,” he answers. “I’m surprised you noticed. It’s something I remember my mom singing when I was a child—not to me, but it stuck with me.”

Bia looks toward the village and sees the fox giantess kneeling, surrounded by inu children playing a game with her.

The Vixen applauds them and cheers as Sophean stands nearby, a quiet pillar of wisdom.

“Does the Vixen remember you?” Bia asks.

“She’s called the Guardian now,” Atreus says, watching the giantess delight in the people she protects. “And yes, she remembers everything… and she still cares for me. But it’s… different.”

Atreus stands, stepping closer to the edge of the hill for a better view of her in the village.

“This is someone new,” he continues. “Not my mother Cadmeia… and she has many more children besides me now.”

Atreus smiles.

“I’m just… grateful.”

As they enjoy the peace and tranquility of the moment, a warning horn suddenly blares from within the village.

An inu man sounds the horn, pointing skyward.

“HARPIES!” another shouts.

The Guardian stiffens, scanning the sky for danger.

They quickly realize the threat is familiar—and friendly. A giant harpy descends from above: Gale.

She is accompanied by a light-brown–skinned harpy with magenta-colored hair named Harriet. 

Both harpies alight on the ground near Atreus, Bia, and Nosys.

Nosys recoils slightly at the sight of them.

“It’s getting a bit crowded here,” he grumbles under his breath.

The Guardian’s expression softens when she sees Gale.

“False alarm,” the man with the horn calls out. “It’s just Airhead, friend of Atreus.”

“Um… excuse me, sir,” Gale says meekly. “That’s not actually my name, you know.”

“That’s what everyone calls you,” the inu man replies with a shrug before walking off.

Gale sighs, her orange hair falling forward as she hangs her head. “Apparently, if you crash into a tree one time while daydreaming, you never hear the end of it.”

Harriet laughs.

Bia rolls onto her back, then springs up to her feet. “You two come to say goodbye as well?” she asks.

Gale nods. “Yes. Everyone, this is Harriet. Harriet, this is Atreus, Bia, and Nosys—he can talk, by the way.”

Harriet nods, accepting the information with mild confusion.

“Hi!” Bia says, waving up at the magenta-feathered giant harpy.

“Hello,” Atreus adds.

Harriet nods at them both and smiles at the sound of the boy’s voice.

“Ah, there he is,” she says.

Atreus raises an eyebrow, confused.

“You’re the boy I’ve heard singing on your rooftop in the mornings,” Harriet explains.

“Oh… yeah,” Atreus says, blushing. “I don’t sing loudly, do I? How did you even hear me?”

Harriet smirks. “It’s one of the things I do. And I was hoping to hear you sing again before you go.”

“I think that’s a great idea,” a young white-haired inu woman says suddenly.

“AHH!” Atreus jumps, startled by her sudden presence.

“Maki?!” he says. “You know I’m kind of on edge right now, right?”

Maki laughs.

“Maybe singing will calm your nerves, Atreus,” she suggests.

Bia’s eyes light up. “Oh, I’d love that!”

Maki smiles, glancing at Bia.

“Is she the… ‘maybe’ you were talking about?” she asks Atreus.

Atreus smiles and nods. “Yes.”

“She seems like a good choice,” Maki says.

Turning toward the village, she calls out, “Let’s get everyone together to wish our brave traveler a fruitful journey!”

Atreus takes up his lute, smiling at it.

“I’m going to learn how to play you one day.”

He pulls the strap over his head and settles the lute against his back.

He waits as Maki gathers a crowd around him.

The inu woman then begins leading them in the chorus while playing her drum, just as they had done before.

They chant.

“I will rise

The light in me will shine”

The Guardian kneels behind the crowd, excitement bright in her eyes.

She has a memory of hearing the song before, yet somehow it still feels like the first time.

Instruments play, but the voices soften, allowing Atreus’s voice to rise.

“I will rise

The light in me will shine

The hope in me survives

The life I live is mine

The world in which I stay

Is different than it was yesterday

The path I take

Each day I wake

Is to love my neighbor

And each moment savor

As a heart’s wish into the wind is blown

I venture always into the unknown

As a heart’s wish into the wind is blown

I venture always into the unknown”

The chorus resumes.

“I will rise

The light in me will shine”

When the song ends, Atreus is met by many inu villagers who come forward to bid him farewell.

Atreus, afterwards, steps before the Guardian one last time.

Kneeling, she smiles at him.

“Thank you for shining your light here, Atreus,” she says, bowing her head in respect.

“Thank you for having me, Guardian,” he replies, bowing in return.

Smiling at the giantess, he lingers for just a heartbeat longer before turning to rejoin his friends.

Harriet beams as Atreus approaches.

“That was better than I could’ve imagined it would be, Bite Size,” she says in her sultry voice.

“Bite Size?” Atreus repeats, laughing. “Okay… I’ll take it.”

Harriet’s grin widens, pleased with herself.

“It’s Helia!” Gale calls as a familiar harpy descends from the sky.

They look up, recognizing the flash of white hair and bronze skin.

Helia lands nearby, urgency etched across her face.

“Come on, Atreus,” she beckons. “We gotta go—and we gotta go now.”

Atreus blinks at the sudden rush.

“Why the big hurry?” he asks, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“My mom grounded me for interfering in the trials, but I snuck away—and I’m positive she knows by now,” Helia says. “She’s gonna rip me to shreds if she catches up to me. Let’s get across the sea as soon as possible!”

Harriet giggles. “You sure know how to get the queen off her tail feathers, Helia.”

As Atreus approaches, Bia takes his hand.

“Wait,” she says. “You never told me where you’re going.”

Atreus leans in and whispers into the shorter girl’s ear.

Bia’s eyes widen. “Oh wow…” she gasps. “I have no idea where that is.”

Atreus laughs. “Don’t worry—Gale will fill you in.”

Gale nods as she crouches, looking down at the tiny humans. “We’ll visit him and Helia often,” she assures Bia.

Bia exhales in relief.

She then looks Atreus in the eyes, keeping him with her a moment longer.

“I will wait for you,” she says softly.

“Bia, don’t,” Atreus refuses gently. “We don’t know what the future holds. I won’t blame you—”

She silences him with a kiss.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do unless you beat me in a wrestling match first,” she says, grinning.

“Okay, that’s totally fair,” Atreus laughs.

They linger, eyes locked.

“Bia,” Atreus says quietly. “I—”

“Don’t say it,” she interrupts, covering his mouth.

“I was going to say I’ll miss you,” Atreus laughs.

“I told you not to say it!” Bia cries, tears streaming down her face. “Hurry up and go before Helia gets chased down by her mom!”

Atreus nods, smiling warmly.

He hurries to Helia, who kneels and lowers herself so he can climb onto her shoulder.

Helia rises and smiles at everyone below.

Atreus waves goodbye as the giant harpy beats her wings and takes flight.

The crowd waves back, watching until he disappears into the distance.

The End.

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Atreus post-Torin Youth concept sketch.