Chapter 7: The Aspirations of The Many

In the heart of Rat City, the Lantern Festival transformed the usual dimness into a mosaic of flickering lights and vibrant hues. Streets that typically whispered with the sounds of daily survival now hummed with laughter, music, and the occasional burst of small fireworks echoing through the cavernous expanse.

Lanterns of all shapes and sizes floated upwards, their ascent halted by the rocky ceiling of the subterranean world. Instead of disappearing into the vastness of the sky, they hovered momentarily before gently drifting back down, like dreams too heavy to escape the weight of reality. Naomi's eyes lingered on a lantern already making its descent, its glow casting fleeting patterns on the stone beneath. 

A young ratling's voice reached her ears.

"Where do the lanterns go when they fall?"

An elder, his fur graying with age, chuckled softly.

"They become part of someone else's dream, sweetheart. We send our hopes up, and when they return, others catch them, carrying them forward."

The elder's words about shared dreams felt hollow to her, a poetic notion that clashed with the fragmented reality she grappled with. The festival's vibrant energy only accentuated the void within her, a stark reminder of the life she couldn't recall and the scars that marked her both physically and emotionally.

Navigating through the throng of celebrants, she tried to keep to herself, Naomi's movements were shadowed and deliberate. The air was thick with the mingling scents of festive foods and the sound of jubilant chatter, but to Naomi, it was an overwhelming cacophony that underscored just how isolated she had been. Faces blurred together, familiar yet foreign, as she constantly struggled to piece together fragments of her past that danced just out of reach.

As she turned a corner, seeking solace away from the overwhelming festivities, her attention was drawn to a trio that stood out amidst the revelry. The man, an outsider who she recognized, was recently introduced to their world by the Rat King, walked alongside two Rats Naomi thought she knew from a nearby bakery, a mother and her young daughter. The child laughed, her eyes alight with wonder as she clung to the man's hand, while the other looked on with an almost imperceptible, yet gentle smile. 

A sharp pang of resentment twisted in Naomi's chest. The ease and affection they shared was a stark contrast to her own fractured existence. How was it that this stranger could so effortlessly integrate into their community, forging bonds she yearned for yet found elusive? The unfairness of it gnawed at her, feeding a simmering anger she struggled to contain.

Naomi anxiously ran her fingers over a scar, tracing its uneven ridges the way she might follow a familiar path, one she wished she could forget. It stretched from her forearm, snaking across her left side, a permanent mark of the explosion in the Ruined Quarter. That day had taken everything, her past, her sense of self, and left her drifting, unmoored in a life that no longer felt like her own.

And then there was the other thing. The ability.

She hadn't asked for it, hadn't wanted it. But in the weeks after the blast, she realized that people no longer really saw her. Their eyes skimmed past the scars, their expressions never flickered with the expected unease or pity. They spoke to her as if she were anyone else, neither shunned nor embraced, just... there. It should have been a relief. Instead, it felt like standing behind glass, watching the world move on without her.

Now, watching the newcomer laugh easily among the others, slipping into their circles as if he'd always belonged, something twisted in her chest. He was an outsider too. But where she was an absence, a presence people glanced over and forgot, he was seen. Accepted.

The unfairness of it burned, raw and familiar. She had a power that bent minds, but it couldn't bridge the distance between her and the world. Nothing could.

The festival's glow flickered against the damp stone walls as Naomi slipped through the shifting currents of the crowd. The scent of portions of roasted chestnuts and burning oil filled the underground air, mixing with the murmur of voices and distant laughter. Every step was deliberate, her movements blending seamlessly into the rhythm of Rat City's celebration. She wasn't part of it, but she knew how to move through it, unseen, unnoticed.

At least she had thought that, Until now.

The weight around her wrist came suddenly, strong paws clamping down, stopping her mid-step. A shock shot through her system, her heart hammering in her chest before she even turned to see who had caught her.

Matias.

His grip was firm, unyielding, his golden eyes scanning her face with the precision of someone who had been hunting something for too long. For once, she couldn't just slip away.

"Naomi, Where do you go every night?" His voice was steady, but there was an edge beneath it, something simmering beneath the surface.

Naomi's breath came shallow. She had been careful. Hadn't she? Yet here he was, watching her like a puzzle he was about to solve.

She swallowed hard, her thoughts running faster than her pulse. Run. Get away. Make him forget.

But his paw didn't loosen.

Matias wasn't letting go.

"Why do you disappear? How do you manage to get out every night?" His voice dropped lower, a quiet demand. "What are you hiding?"

Panic rose like bile in Naomi's throat. She couldn't let this happen. Couldn't let him follow her, couldn't let him find Eli, couldn't—

Her mind spiraled, grasping for escape. When finally she felt something spark in her mind.

Let go. Let go. Don't see me. Just let go.

Matias inhaled sharply, and his grip faltered.

Naomi's stomach lurched.

Something shifted in his eyes, his pupils dilating, the sharp focus in them dulling for just a second. But instead of looking past her, his gaze locked onto her like he was seeing her for the first time.

His fingers twitched against her skin. His breath hitched. His whole body went rigid.

And then, his mouth opened, his voice a whisper of horror.

"Naomi… What are you?"

Naomi stopped breathing.

No. No, no, no.

This wasn't how it was supposed to work. People's eyes were supposed to skim past her. Their minds were supposed to slip over her like water over stone. They weren't supposed to—

But Matias wasn't looking away.

He saw her. Really saw her. The scars twisting across her skin. The pain sitting heavy behind her eyes. The weight she carried, the truth that even her own mind held deeply buried. All of it.

A cold fear crawled up Naomi's spine. She had never felt naked before, not like this. Exposed, as if Matias had peeled back a layer of reality just by touching her.

He took a step closer, his fingers still curled where they had been locked around her wrist, but not holding anymore. "I see you." His voice was softer now. Was she hearing sympathy? No. 

Naomi snapped.

Her body acted before her mind could process it, the thought slamming through her head so fast she barely understood it herself.

You can never tell anyone about this.

Matias flinched. His entire body shuddered, his shoulders locking tight, his breath catching. His expression twisted in confusion.

He blinked once. Twice. And then, his grip fully released.

Matias stumbled backward like he had been hit, his chest rising and falling too fast, too uneven. He took in Naomi, her scars, her presence, her power, but he didn't speak.

Couldn't speak.

Naomi's pulse thundered in her ears. Her feet were already moving, running, escaping, before she even processed what she had done.

She didn't look back.

Didn't see Matias standing frozen, his paws flexing at his sides, his mouth parted like he wanted to shout for her to stop, but couldn't.

Didn't see the way he shook his head, trying to clear it, trying to fight something he didn't understand.

Didn't see him finally exhale, his whole body trembling with something that wasn't just confusion.

Something much closer to fear.

Naomi slipped through the ruins, her breath still uneven, her hands still trembling. The festival had long since faded behind her, but her mind refused to let go of what had happened.

Matias had seen her. Really seen her.

She couldn't go back now. Not to the castle, not to the festival, not anywhere near the ones who knew her name. Matias wouldn't be able to speak of what had happened, her power had ensured that, but he remembered. He knew she was something different. Something *wrong*.

Her steps quickened as she reached the familiar, forgotten part of the city, the place where no one else went. The air here was still, untouched by the celebrations, the only sound her own hurried breathing. It didn't matter

He was waiting.

She pushed through the narrow passage and stepped inside. The soft glow of the single lantern illuminated the space, casting flickering shadows against the walls. And there he was, just as she had left him.

Unmoving. Asleep. Trapped.

Naomi exhaled shakily, lowering herself beside him. "I made it back," she murmured, though the words felt hollow. "I made it back to you."

She reached for the cloth beside him and began her routine. Clean his hands, his face. Make sure the dust from the ruins hadn't settled on him too much. She worked in silence, as she always did, but tonight, something felt different. The weight of the night pressed harder against her chest.

She couldn't lose him.

She turned to the small bag she had brought, taking out the carefully mashed food she had traded for earlier in the night. Balancing the spoon in one hand, she tried to ease a small amount into his mouth.

And of course, like always, nothing.

The food sat against his lips before slipping back down, untouched.

Naomi swallowed, adjusting her grip, trying again. This time it worked. Barely. But the next attempt? The spoon tilted, spilling food onto the blanket, onto him, onto her hands.

Something inside her cracked.

She let out a sharp breath, wiping at the mess too quickly, too roughly, and it only made things worse. The frustration swelled inside her, hot and unbearable.

"I wish you would just wake up," she choked, voice breaking. "You're the one person I wish this stupid power would work on."

Her hands clenched into fists, shaking with the force of everything she was feeling, everything she had been holding back for so long. The helplessness. The exhaustion. The suffocating loneliness.

She squeezed her eyes shut, taking a ragged breath, but when she opened them, she noticed it.

The food had spilled onto his bag.

She moved to clean it, reaching for the cloth, but as she did, the bag tipped, its contents tumbling onto the stone floor.

Naomi froze.

Small objects scattered around her. A folded cloth. An old, worn book. A tiny, carved wooden figure she had never noticed before.

And a box. Wrapped in a bow.

She wiped at her face, sniffing back the last of her tears, her fingers curling around the box. It was small, delicate, something that felt out of place in this ruin of a life they lived.

A tag dangled from it, and the moment she saw the writing, her breath caught.

For you, my best friend, Naomi.

The world felt like it had stopped moving.

Her name. Her name was on it. The one thing she remembered for certain, the only thing she had of her old life. 

And here it was, written, right in front of her. 

Her hands trembled as she carefully, slowly untied the bow. The lid came free with a soft creak, and inside, resting in a bed of cloth, were two wooden lockets.

Naomi lifted them with unsteady fingers, heart hammering. One had a small carving of her.

The other—

A name was carved into the back.

Eli.

The breath she had been holding left her in a shuddering exhale.

She whispered the name aloud, her voice barely above a breath. "Eli."

It felt right and wrong at the same time. Like something she should have known all along but had been forced to forget.

A sob tore through her, but this time, she didn't try to hold it back. She curled forward, clutching the locket to her chest as she pressed her forehead against Eli's arm.

"Please, Eli," she whispered, voice raw. "Please wake up."

Naomi didn't remember closing her eyes. One moment, she was curled beside Eli, the soft flickering of the lantern casting long shadows across the stone walls of Eli's room. The next, she was somewhere else.

A field. A breeze. Dappled sunlight filtering through a canopy of tall trees, warm against her skin. The scent of something sweet, fresh fruit, damp earth after a rain.

Laughter echoed ahead of her, light and carefree.

"Come on, slowpoke! You're gonna lose!"

Naomi blinked. The voice was familiar, but too distant, too warped to place. Still, her feet moved. She was running, chasing something, someone.

Up ahead, a young Rat dashed through the tall grass, his fur catching the golden light. He turned back to grin at her, a locket bouncing against his chest with every step. His smile was teasing, triumphant.

"Naomi, you better hurry!"

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew him.

Eli.

The name surfaced like a breath breaking through deep water, and for a moment, everything felt right. The warmth in her chest, the weightless joy of running after him, the way the sunlight stretched long across their path. It felt real. More real than anything had in a long time.

But then the light flickered.

Something was wrong.

The sky darkened at the edges. The trees wavered like ripples in a pond. Naomi slowed, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Eli was still running ahead, but his figure was starting to blur.

She reached for him. "Eli—"

The world fractured.

A sound, a deep, gut-wrenching explosion, ripped through the air, and suddenly she was falling.

The golden sky vanished, replaced by smoke and fire. The ground beneath her twisted into rubble, the weight of something heavy crushing down on her chest. Screams tore through the chaos. A name, her name, shouted from somewhere beyond the haze.

Naomi gasped awake.

Her body jerked forward, breath shuddering, hands clutching the fabric beneath her. The ruins were dark again, cold, silent.

Eli was still there, but not how she had just seen him.

Her hands trembled as she pressed them against her temples. The memory was already slipping away, dissolving at the edges like smoke. But the feeling lingered. She had been there. They had been there. Together.

She turned to Eli, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Eli… I remember."

But he didn't move.

The ruins swallowed the words, leaving her alone again, staring at a past she couldn't quite hold onto as she laid her head against him again.

Meanwhile, the festival had begun to wind down, the brilliant energy of the night settling into something softer. The lanterns, once casting a golden glow over the cavernous streets of Rat City, now floated lazily downward, their flames flickering as they drifted into waiting hands. The sounds of laughter and music had dulled to quiet murmurs, the streets thinning as families and vendors packed up, retreating into the warm glow of their homes.

Castin walked alongside Elizabeth and Emma, their pace unhurried, the night's festivities still lingering in the air. Emma, still brimming with excitement, skipped ahead, swinging her arms as she clutched a softly flickering lantern she had caught.

"Cass, look!" she chirped, her small hands lifting the lantern as if it were the most precious thing in the world. "It fell right into my arms. That means I get someone's dream, right?"

Castin smirked at the new nickname, shaking his head. "Is that how it works?"

Emma nodded vigorously. "Mhm! But the writing's smudged. I can't read it."

He crouched slightly to examine it. The ink had blurred beyond recognition, the delicate parchment softened by the drifting descent. "Well," he said, tapping the side of the lantern, "I guess that means you get to make up your own wish."

Emma's eyes brightened. "Ooooh! I wish for a treehouse made of candy! No! A castle made of candy!"

Castin chuckled. "Sounds like you'll need a lot of sugar."

Elizabeth, who had been silent most of the walk, exhaled a quiet breath. "She doesn't get to do things like this often."

Castin glanced at her, the words carrying an unspoken weight. "Yeah?"

Elizabeth hesitated, her gaze still forward, as if she were thinking carefully about what she wanted to say. Then, finally, "No. She doesn't."

There was a pause between them, filled only by the soft sound of their steps against the stone.

Emma, unfazed by the moment, twirled on her heel, lifting the lantern high above her head, humming a tune that had played earlier in the festival. Castin smiled at her before sneaking another glance at Elizabeth. She wasn't looking at him anymore. Her posture had shifted, her brows furrowing slightly as her attention turned toward something unseen.

"What is it?" he asked.

Elizabeth's fingers twitched slightly at her sides, as if the answer was there but she wasn't sure she wanted to give it voice. Finally, she shook her head. "Nothing. Just… a feeling."

Castin frowned, glancing around the streets. Most of the festival-goers had retreated, but the last remnants of the night still glowed against the stone walls. Lanterns flickered overhead, casting long shadows against the cobbled paths.

A feeling.

He had learned to trust those.

But Elizabeth didn't say anything else, and eventually, they resumed their walk. The warmth of the evening still clung to the air, but there was something quieter in the way the city breathed now. A shift, small, but present.

As they reached the threshold of their dwelling, Emma turned to Castin and wrapped her arms around his waist in a tight hug. "Goodnight, Cass!" she chirped before pulling away and hurrying inside.

Castin blinked, caught off guard, but smiled. "Goodnight, Emma."

Elizabeth lingered just a second longer, watching her daughter disappear inside before exhaling sharply. Castin expected her to follow, but she didn't. Instead, she turned back toward the quieted streets, her fingers curling at her sides.

"Elizabeth?" Castin asked, studying her expression. She didn't look at him at first, her focus on the distant glow of lanterns. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost to herself.

"The last time things felt… peaceful," she murmured, "it didn't last."

Her jaw tightened, and finally, she looked at him. "I don't trust it."

Castin didn't respond right away. He wasn't sure he had the right words for the kind of pain buried in that statement. Instead, he simply nodded. "Yeah," he admitted. "I get that."

For the first time, Elizabeth seemed to really take him in. There was something calculating in her gaze, something wary, but also something softer than before. She gave him a small, almost reluctant nod before finally stepping inside after Emma.

Castin stood outside for a moment, breathing in the last remnants of the festival's air. The warmth still lingered, but beneath it, something else settled into his chest.

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