Emily's Fate

Solomon Pemberton was his mother's last act, her body going slack after he'd been born. Torn, his father decided to leave him in the hands of another till he was less forlorn. There, during his first years, did he meet Emily Piers, a girl of no fears. Though neither remembered those days fully, the bond they shared was hearty and well, even after their farewell.

Maxwell Pemberton took his son to their home in London with a sense of joy and merriment, glad to see there was no resentment between he and Solomon. Like his name implied, Solomon was quite wise, having recognized the pain in his father's eyes at his mother's demise. He'd not begrudge a man his feelings; he felt that it'd be stealing of that man's healing.

And so, the two lived peacefully, till Emily's "treachery" was plain for all to see. Emily's family were secret Jews in a land where no one got to choose their beliefs and legacies. Solomon Pemberton didn't think, he acted, saving the family before their deaths were enacted. His father was frantic, pleading for his son's life as officers found the knife Solomon had used to save the Jews, having cut them loose from their nooses.

After a long exchange, they had come to an agreement; Solomon could live, but there had to be change. As the Piers were once again bound, Maxwell had a long sit down with his son, his frown showing he cared even as he teared Solomon's heart in half and made him scared.

"To be alive is to be impaired. You must care of what others think, even as you feel your self shrink. To deviate is to create violence and hate. Just take flight on the ground with the crowd and you'll be alright, avoiding the fights of wrong and right that take true, individual and intellectual might."

It was a heinous night. Emily and her family rose to artificial heights, arms and legs bound to poles of those who were full of emptiness and holes: the ones who kept them from truly flying. There was no one there who had the gall needed for untying. And as Emily was dying, she spoke, her voice frightening despite being burned by ignorant flames:

"Curse you all and your nameless crowd! Always keeping the true kings and queens of humanity from being crowned! You think you can bring me down in death, that I'll ever stop being proud and loud? That's not me and it'll never be! I'll never be scared to be me!"

It was so frightening, so resounding, Solomon can still hear her voice hiding in his head, even if she's dead. Always warning him, always warming him, even as his wife holds him.

The dead has always had an unsaid power, even before this story's last hour.