[Dated to November 3, 2021]

It had been a very long, very exhausting several days. Kerberos had spent most of the first night after the battle curled up between Sam and Jesse, emotionally processing everything that had happened. Everything they had lost. Everything they might have found.

There was so much, and the weight of it all was heavy on his shoulders.

He had to wait a few days, then, after the battle, to return to his world. He’d taken Lixian the night before, and his guess was that generally he could go back every three days, and as much as he wanted to reach out to Lyndin, he needed time. Space, to process everything that had happened.

A chance to go to his world and recover.

He went alone; needed the space to process without anyone else there to speak to him. Though, of course, he couldn't abandon his wisp; as soon as he powered up, a few blocks from the pretty brownstone he shared with Sam and Jesse, it materialized next to him, offering a concerned nudge against his cheek.

"I'm alright," he told it, reaching up to gently pet the little glowing orb. "Just need some quiet. So we're going up to space," he said, and he pulled out his phone. It had been a lucky thing, running into that cat who had been willing to upgrade it; he much preferred the modern smartphone interface to the clunky early-2000s one he'd started with.

He tapped the app that took him to space, took a deep breath, and he and his wisp were whisked away.

It was nighttime, on Kerberos; the stars shone bright in the sky, a thousand scattered worlds, and for a moment, his heart was heavy with the weight of how many there were. All of them, dead, unable to support more than wild-growing plant life, like the garden he found himself in.

He sank, heavily onto one of the stone benches, in this lovely place where he'd taken Caedus and Lyndin, eager to show them what he'd done.

But the truth was, he'd only brought an empty shell. False hope. A planet that, while it could support plants, would never support more than that in its current state.

Except.

Except he heard a song.

It was strange, echoing all around him--and it sounded like violins, all playing in concert, creating an ancient melody. He recognized the tune and tone, had heard these songs in memory a hundred times, produced on Kerberan instruments, for Irit to dance to. The tune wasn't quite the same, but the timbre, the tone--

And there were little lights in the flowers.

And as he sat, he watched movement among the leaves, and out sprung a tiny little creature, no longer than a finger, that looked almost like an Earth cricket, except that it glowed, with the same odd bioluminescenece that Kerberos had noticed in the asphodel here.

And it rubbed its legs together, and there.

The note.

The song.

The song he was hearing was....crickets. Dozens of them.

Kerberos felt tears p***k at the corner of his eyes.

The sensation they had all felt on the moon--the energy that had pulsed across that map of the stars. This must have been what it was. A powerful energy, released by the explosion of Archideus.

And as Kerberos sat, he saw something else--rising out of the gardens were moths. It wasn't just the crickets.

Kerberos held out his hand, and one of the moths slowly lowered itself onto his fingers, and he smiled, broadly.

It was small, maybe ten centimeters long, but its dusty-white wings glowed with beautiful red bioluminescence. Kerberos carefully drew it closer for a better look, and had to stifle a gasp as he took in the intricate petal patterns made up by the glowing marks on its back.

"Wonder of wonders," he said, softly.

It was small things. Just insects. Crickets and moths. But it represented something so much larger. It represented life.

Kerberos, the moon, was alive again.

The tears that had been pricking at the corners of his eyes since he'd arrived finally gave over and began to fall, and he could not keep the smile off his face.

His wisp bobbed up and nudged against his cheek, and he was shocked that its sudden appearance didn't startle off the moth that seemed quite comfortable resting on his hand.

"I'm okay," he told the wisp, "just...a little overwhelmed." He looked around, amazed and admiring.

Had Lyndin known? Had this been the end goal, all along? Destroying Archideus not to destroy the Negaverse, but to pulse energy into the stars, to kickstart this magnificent rebirth?

It seemed like a deeply risky endeavor. Certainly one with little guarantee of success. But then, perhaps the position Velencya was in made any risk seem worthwhile.

Gently, Kerberos moved his hand, which sent the moth fluttering away. He would have to stay overnight--see if there was anything else waiting for him in the morning--and to that end, he pulled his civilian cell phone form subspace and sent a quick text to his boyfriends.

Will be on Kerberos all night. Don't worry, good things. <3 Keiran

He'd bring them here later, show them what it was like to have a world alive. But for now, this was for him, and for his peace of mind.

When he got back to Earth, he would have to contact Lyndin, for certain--he'd already resolved to, before, but now...now it seemed even more important.

Look, he wanted to say. See what you've done. Not to us, but for us.

Because it simply couldn't be a coincidence, and even if it was an accident, even if it wasn't what Lyndin planned...

Kerberos knew that he owed the return of cricket-song on his moon, the arrival of the beautiful glowing moths, and whatever else he might find to what had been done on that hill, that day.

And perhaps this was the first step towards forging the future they all wanted to find.