The crypt was silent around him, as it ought to be. As he’d expected it to be. Babylon took his time in circling it, staring up at each of the ancient knights in turn and studying their faces. These were his ancestors, he thought, the men and women who’d stood his post before him and kept the city since time immemorial. He felt judgement in their glittering gazes - who was he, little more than a child, to stand in their station?

Babylon had only ever known Menachem to wear a uniform similar to how his own used to look - a dark coat and a heavy fur cloak. The knights that surrounded him were carved from gray stone, glittering with veins of crystal, their lanterns held high. Their silhouettes matched that ancient uniform. Babylon looked down at his crisp white coat. He didn’t think any of his predecessors had ever worn anything like this.

At the end of the row, a long line of empty alcoves waited. Menachem had no statue.

The well waited at the center of the room, bright and mysterious as it had ever been. Babylon stared at it with grim determination. He’d left things unfinished on his last trip down, not as far as Menachem was concerned but for his own satisfaction. Vanishing his lantern, he slipped gracefully into the light and drifted to the bottom.

His ancestor’s lantern was exactly where he had left it, mouldering away. Babylon crouched down, carefully feeling out the edges of the metal, deciding whether it was worth the risk to move it. Despite its delicate appearance, it felt sturdy. Moving slowly, he slipped his fingers underneath the lantern and lifted it from the ground. When it did not immediately fall apart in his hands, he breathed a sigh of relief. That had been his biggest fear, that this task would be over before he’d even come close to completing it.

Holding the lantern carefully, Babylon kicked off from the bottom and floated gently up to the top of the well. As he stepped forward, back into the crypt, he looked down at his hands.

The lantern burned blue.

He looked towards his twin sister, but Raziele had always been skilled in hiding her emotions. The knight of Mistral’s expression gave no sign of her grief, but the circuitry on her gown glittered in the chamber’s light. Menachem looked away.

His father’s sarcophagus stood open, but he could not see in. His statue stood true to life above the grave, hand held above the heart in eternal salute. The fingers were empty for now, awaiting their lantern.

It was not Menachem’s duty to bury his father. He need only stand and watch, and envy his sister’s composure as she watched the marble slab slide into place. Their mother placed their father’s lantern into the statue’s hand.

He looked to the empty alcove beside his father’s grave.

“You won’t fill that for many years yet,” said Raziele.

The memory ended. Babylon approached empty alcove, his focus drawn to the bare pedestal. He did not have the skill to construct a statue, but perhaps one day he’d find some other way to honor his ancestor. For now, he placed the lantern atop the empty sarcophagus. From behind the cracked glass emanated a faint blue glow.

“You asked me once if I was what’s become of you,” he said, stepping back, calling his weapon with a wave of his fingers. “You weren’t impressed. You wanted someone stronger. Smarter. Braver. And I wasn’t any of those things and I wasn’t ready to be any of those things.”

He looked to the nearest statue, Menachem’s father, the lantern he’d seen placed in his vision just now - an orb of light, closed in a delicate golden cage, a mercury sigil dangling from its base. Each stone knight stood an eternal vigil, their lanterns still lit though their lives were long ended. Someday, he realized, if all went well, he’d be laid to rest here as well, his glass star held aloft for all time.

“I am what’s become of you,” he said to the statues. “Of us. And I’m ready for that now. So you can rest. All of you. I’ll stand watch.”

The statues, being statues, gave no reply. Babylon stared at the empty alcove for a long time. “I’ll figure you out,” he said. “I owe you this.” But there was nothing he could do tonight. Earth and sleep were calling.

He answered.