Log 1/Day 3 at the nibbler colony/mid-day

There's something off about writing logs outside of Kismet's. I'm not certain whether I will do it frequently, but I have an urge to clear my thoughts. It honestly makes me miss Kismet even more. I hope she's doing well and that our message reaches her. As soon as Thanatos is able to fly again, we must go visit her.

Either way, on the one hand, I have been doing better than I have in ages since coming here. On the other hand, it is not like before either. Because . . . it will never be like before. I think this has not settled in yet. I must find a way to convince myself that it is a good thing because, honestly, it is more than a little terrifying.

Thanatos says that anywhere can be home, and I want to believe him. Could a life consisting of mercenary missions and adventures, the way we have led before, be home? Sometimes I think that it could, but then I wonder if that is enough. Can an outcast have aspirations? Ambitions? Do I even need any? It is frustrating to know so little about where to go next, and frightening too. Since when is the future frightening?

But I mustn't let fear rule me. This is one thing I know about the Henry of New—he must never let fear rule him anymore.

Will Longclaw and Tonguetwist come after us, I wonder? I have no more craving to chase after them for our own sake, but sometimes I wonder if it is wise to leave them to their devices. Longclaw was very adamant about making himself the next gnawer king, and if anything, should we not see to it that he does not achieve this? That he does not become another tyrant like Gorger? Who else would, if not us?

On one hand, it is not really our responsibility to meddle with the internal affairs of the gnawers, but on the other hand . . . who would think to stop us? If we take him out before he can cause more harm, would we be heroes? Is this an ambition worth chasing? Note to self: bring this up to Thanatos at one point.

If this is what we may do in the near future, I am not frightened of it. Perhaps I can even be excited. About the new sword Teslas and I are making as well (I cannot wait for that, honestly.)

I have just read everything I have written, and what even is this? When the hell did I start sounding like a moody existentialist? Perhaps it is that I have not seen enough action recently.

Be that as it may (note to self: do your very best to ensure that the Henry of New shall NOT be a moody existentialist!!), I have also gone over a lot of my old notes when making sketches for the new sword. And, well, there is little else to do when your nibbler friends insist on being overly concerned about you and your (nearly healed!!) stab wound.

In the process, I have rediscovered a design that I made at Kismet's at one point. The accompanying logs from that time made me physically recoil, though. I cannot fathom how I have ever

Considering what this design is, I still cannot help but be anxious about whether Thanatos will yell at me if I ever do bring it up and say that it is offensive, but I am not entirely devoid of hope that he may hear me out if I ask sincerely. Not anymore.

Perhaps I should ask Teslas about whether it is even feasible and will work the way I envision it first. Then we may talk to Thanatos together. That being said, I would be lying if I claimed that I was not a little excited.

***

"What in the world has ever gotten you to start a log, actually? I never took you for a diary kind of guy."

Henry jumped, and the notebook he had been scribbling in slid off his lap. He smacked the back of his hand in Thanatos' direction. "It is not a diary," he yelled. "And I started it because I was bored, with no other outlet for my thoughts."

"Those logs I read did not sound . . . bored."

Henry agitatedly flipped through his notebook, only to curse when a considerable number of pages that had been barely hanging on fell out. "No, those were not for my boredom."

"So, he may be surprised. It is just harder." Curie appeared out of the vine curtain, carrying a food hamper.

"Cut it out," hissed Henry, gathering the fallen pages out of the sand. At least none had fallen into the lake.

"Father said something about fetching you soon," said Curie, rising to all fours. "Something about your new project. But first, I brought lunch."

"Oh, you are a treasure!" exclaimed Henry. "I am famished."

"You look famished," remarked Thanatos.

"And so, you all shall back off and leave the best food to me."

Curie and Thanatos exchanged amused looks but did not protest. Before long, Curie stood again. "I should go check on Father," she announced. "He should have already fetched you. Perhaps he became sidetracked again." She sighed.

"I would not be surprised." Henry laughed. "I will be here when he calls." He watched her slip into the colony and smiled. "I still remember holding her in the palm of my hand when we first met."

"I still remember her perching on top of my head," added Thanatos.

"The day you were a gnawer king."

"The day you made your promise."

Henry smiled. Before he could bring up what he had concluded regarding Longclaw, Thanatos spoke: "Considering you are making something out of it, does that mean the nibblers have been able to determine what the black substance we retrieved is?"

"Kind of," replied Henry. "Apparently, it is a million-year-old piece of debris that once fell from space. Actual . . . space. Above the earth and beyond." He stared up, taking in the dense network of green above him, and wondered if space was green too. Whether it was lush with life or a deserted wasteland.

"So it is a meteorite," said Thanatos. "I considered whether it might be, but I wasn't sure."

"How do you know about metro . . . meteorites?" Henry eyed him with a raised eyebrow. "I had not even heard of the concept that a rock from space may be found lodged in the depths of the earth."

"Perhaps because I have a little more life experience than you," said Thanatos. "It is not an uncommon term."

"Oh, right, how could I forget that you are old." Henry laughed. "How old are you, actually? You never specified."

"My age in years cannot be compared to your age in years," replied Thanatos. "Fliers become of age when they turn two years old, whereas it takes humans sixteen years . . . allegedly."

"Hey!" Henry pulled his leg to his chest, pouting. "Fine. How about this . . . To determine a flier's age in human parameters, we may take your age in years, subtract two, and add sixteen. Will that not be fair?"

"That . . . is actually quite a solid system."

"Well, am I not inventive and cunning?"

"You are also vain, and I know not how to feel about the fact that I am finding myself glad that you have rediscovered your vanity."

Henry laughed, swatting at his flier's ear. "Quit changing the subject and tell me! Have we not put honesty on such a high pedestal earlier?"

"That is not—" Thanatos groaned. "Fine. For the sake of honesty, I will tell you that, speaking strictly in years, I am also . . . No, I have to be eighteen by now. More than a year has elapsed since we first met." He shook his head. "Preposterous."

"Oh!" Henry laughed. "You were born only a year before I."

"Indeed."

"Well . . ." He put a hand on his chin. "Let us do the math, then. This would be . . . sixteen plus sixteen is . . . thirty-two." He stared at his flier bemusedly. "I suppose it makes sense that you share the genuine ages of Mareth and Hamnet if you were all "ancient friends". All of you are ancient indeed."

"Considering that you would be a measly three-year-old in flier parameters, I think you are not the one who should be mocking."

"I would much rather be a three-year-old than in my thirties!" Henry snorted. "If I were a three-year-old, my entire life would lay ahead of me. I would not have to deal with expectations or disappointments yet. I could draw on the walls, make rude faces at officials, and scare the adults by hiding within furniture for as much as I wanted."

"And you would have to adhere to nap time and be in constant need of supervision."

Henry groaned. "Oh, how much I loathed nap time!"

"I had an inkling." Thanatos laughed, then he suddenly stilled. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I am . . . old. Seven years have elapsed since I left society, and with it, any thoughts of my age. I was a young adult when I left, and now . . ."

"Hey." Henry nudged him. "It matters not how old you are; you can still achieve great things. Your life is not over."

"I've wasted seven years of my life."

"And you shall not waste another second."

Side by side, they stared out onto the tranquil lake. Henry let the calming sounds seep into his being, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, he fully embraced his senses, perceiving every vine, every stone, and every hidden corner around them.

"So, are you and Teslas making anything else besides this ominous sword?" Thanatos at last broke the silence, and Henry opened his eye. "Curie said that he has spent most of his time designing new gadgets for you."

"Indeed," replied Henry. "And, well . . ." His gaze trailed toward his notebook. There was something else he had wanted to propose to Teslas, but . . .

An array of confused and hesitant thoughts crowded his mind. On one hand, he didn't feel ready to share this yet; on the other hand, it had been nagging at him relentlessly since he had rediscovered it. Maybe it was time to get it over with. "I actually had something, but . . ." He gave his flier a quick glance. "I shall tell you a little later, okay?"

"Why later?"

"Because . . ." Henry picked up his notebook and began flipping through the loose pages. "I would like to ask Teslas about it first," he admitted. "As to whether it is even feasible or whether I am a fool. It is . . ." He cleared his throat, staring into the book intensely. "Somewhat . . . controversial."

"Is it now?"

Henry groaned. "It . . . listen, may I talk to Teslas first, and then . . . we explain to you together? That will make it easier."

"Easier?" Thanatos stared at him skeptically. "Why are you frightened of speaking to me about something as trivial as a new invention idea, of all things?"

"Because we may have pledged honesty, but I also know you. And I know that the moment I mention what this is, you will accuse me of being offensive."

"Try me."

"I would really rather not." Henry slammed the notebook shut, burrowing his fingers into the sand. "I vow that I shall tell you together with Teslas, but—"

He jumped when Thanatos came up in front of him. "Henry, do not be ridiculous. There is nothing you could suggest that would make me accuse you in an unfounded way. As long as the aim of this design is not to be offensive, I shall not be unfair."

"It is not." Henry shook his head, attempting to remember the benefits he had once so meticulously thought out. The design would most likely need work, but he at least had somewhere to start. "It is . . . Well, if it works, this may make us considerably stronger and far less predictable in battle. And by considerably, I mean considerably. That is its purpose." His heart still beat out of his chest as he picked out the page and laid it on the ground in front of them. "There."

A few moments of silence went by before Thanatos looked back up. "But this looks like a . . . saddle."

Henry nodded and squinted, steeling himself for the incoming tirade.

"Henry!" his flier hissed. "You are well aware why fliers do not wear saddles; it is symbolic of our equality with you. It is not—"

"I am well aware of that." Henry cut him off. "But what did I say was—"

"Hold on!" Thanatos cut him off. "I said I would not accuse you as long as this design is not offensive. But that is exactly what—"

"Death!" cried Henry, digging his hands deeper into the sand. "May you be still for a moment? Oh, this is exactly why I did not want to tell you."

Thanatos did not say anything anymore, but his eyes retained their offended gleam. Henry took a deep breath. His hand trembled as he picked the page back up. "Okay, so . . . First of all—what did I tell you was its purpose?"

Thanatos hesitated. "To . . . make us stronger in battle? But how could a saddle make us—"

"I would explain if you would quit your accusations and let me speak!" Henry brandished the page in front of his face. "Do you honestly think I would even bring this up if it were not at least revolutionary? It is not entirely fleshed out yet, but if it works, it could change everything. Everything we know about fighting and flying as a team. I mean that!"

Thanatos stared at him with narrowed eyes. Then finally, he let out a strained sigh. "Fine. Go ahead and elaborate. I am not letting you put any saddles on me, but . . . I will listen to your idea. I believe I owe you that much trust."

The moment he registered the admission, it was as though an enormous boulder had been lifted off his chest. Henry breathed out in relief. "Thank you!" He beamed. "I shall not disappoint. I—"

At that moment, the curtain of vines parted. "Henry, Father is ready! You must come!"

Henry's head whipped toward the curtain, spotting Curie standing halfway through. "I will elaborate later," he promised. "And I swear that it will not disappoint."

From the corner of his eye, Henry made out Thanatos rolling his eyes. "I will be the judge of that."

***

"Henry, you must come; it is done!"

Henry was up on his feet before Teslas had finished speaking. He wasn't supposed to run, but for once he disregarded it, flying through the stacks of materials and crates like he had wings. "Done? Finally done!"

"Henry, slow down!" Teslas reproached, turning from his work table, which he had cloaked with a large piece of fabric. "You shall not get any swords if you are so reckless."

Henry came to an abrupt halt in front of Teslas, peeking over his shoulder. "It would have been done faster if you would have let me help you."

"With that injury? You're lucky I let you walk." Teslas snorted, turning back to the table. "A week is a good time for a piece such as this. Behold." With a single pull, he removed the cloth. "And besides, now that we have this done and over with, we can begin working on that saddle gadget. That is about the most revolutionary design I have ever seen. And I have seen a lot. About your flier—we shall convince him together; worry not."

Yet all Henry had an eye for was the table and the nothing short of breathtaking jet-black blade Teslas had arranged on it.

"A marvelous exemplar of a two-handed Greatsword." Teslas strolled around the table like a salesman attempting to tempt a customer. "It stands at four feet six presently, though it may require a pommel. But since you're adept at carving now, I shall leave that to you."

His tail intercepted Henry's hand, denying him the chance to touch the sword.

"Featuring a wide blade and a tapered point with a diamond cross-section, it shall be perfect for taking down larger, unarmored foes." He indicated the curved crossguard. "With a large ricasso and thorn-like extremities, it offers enhanced control and power." His claw then tapped the hilt. "Equipped with a two-handed, waisted grip, it is ideal for delivering powerful cuts and cleaves." His gaze shifted up at Henry. "By all means, were I a swordsman, I'd be green with envy."

Henry made no attempt to close his gaping mouth as his fingers gradually closed around the waisted hilt.

"And the best part is—"

"Agh!" Henry staggered backward, barely preventing himself from releasing the enormous sword.

"—is that it barely weighs more than your other sword," Teslas finished his sentence and grinned. "Careful there."

"Oh, shit!" As he raised the massive black blade, all other words failed Henry. For one moment, he held it with both hands, yet, as he adjusted his grip and felt the guard, he was elated to find that he could wield it even with a single hand.

"Hey!" Teslas had his shoulder at once. "Do that outside, please. With a sword of such magnitude and with no prior experience in wielding it, you may demolish my entire workshop."

"Teslas." Henry's gaze met the concerned nibbler. "I love it."

"Well, good!" The inventor shoved him toward the exit, but from the corner of his eye, Henry spotted that he was smiling too. "Now go and show off, as you inevitably intended to. Just don't strain yourself too much. And don't forget to think up a name for it!"

Henry's grin never faded as he made his way from the workshop to the vine curtain and the lake. The new sword felt natural on his shoulder. His hands clutched the hilt, wrapped in exquisite silk, tightly, and he felt a rush of excitement wash over him with each step.

He mused about whether he had to go and fetch Thanatos and maybe an audience, but when he shoved the vine curtain aside, he spotted his flier on the beach, and by his side, Curie.

"Well, does "sword" still equal "sword"?" Vaulting from the final rock, he deftly spun the blade and thrust its tip into the ground. If he were to attach a pommel, it would reach halfway up his chest.

"Oh . . ."

Henry's grin widened when he spotted Thanatos' wide, disbelieving eyes.

"Wow!" Curie leaped onto her hind legs. "Big sword!"

Henry laughed. "Perhaps that is what I should name it."

"Fine, I may have been mistaken," grumbled Thanatos. "This is nothing like your old sword."

"That one is a toothpick in comparison!"

"Indeed." Thanatos shook his head. "It is . . . quite stunning. But is it not a little too big?"

"Not even remotely," said Henry, lifting it back up. "I wanted a two-handed sword of this size for grounded combat against foes larger than myself." He weighed the blade in his hands, then fell into stance and swung it at a hanging vine. The black blade effortlessly sliced through the finger-thick vine in one swipe. "It is barely heavier than my other sword!" He did not lose his overjoyed grin for a moment. "Oh, how I wish I had this in the arena!"

Henry contemplated his old blade, now dented and worn—it had not come out of fifty battles unmarred.

"You must show it to Kismet," said Thanatos. "I wager she will be a fan."

"No doubt!" Upon hearing the name, Henry felt a pang.

"Will it have a name like your dagger?" asked Curie.

"Soon, it will." Henry pondered. He inspected the jet-black, glistening blade. "It is a shame that the Ignifer will not work on it, though. This is exactly how I pictured the Death Rider's sword as a child." He raised the blade and gripped the hilt with both hands. "And so . . ." Henry's grin widened as an idea came to him. "That may be it. How about . . . In the name of the One True Death Rider!" He raised the blade even higher. "I dub thee—Charos!"

The blade descended, and the tip drove into the ground below.

"Charos . . . is that a reference to the Grim Reaper?"

"Indeed," proclaimed Henry. His hand brushed the pommel-less hilt. "It shall be a weapon befitting the Death Rider."

"Undoubtedly," admitted Thanatos. "On that note, have you considered that it may need a special sheath? It is too long to be drawn normally, no?"

"Do not ruin my moment!" shouted Henry. "We already had this, did we not? I shall consider the sheath issue at a different time."

He stared at the black blade and suddenly thought he had never been more ready to take up the Death Rider role with everything it entailed. "We may truly be the Death Rider again, no?" he asked Thanatos.

"I did ponder about that," said his flier. "The fact that you introduced us and not yourself in this manner to the hissers."

"It is only fair," said Henry. "The Rider and Death . . . Only together they are the Death Rider."

"And will the Death Rider stay awhile?" asked Curie. "Mother said you could."

"We shall." Henry stared at her pensively, recalling the first time they had met. She had dubbed him her fairytale prince, and he had refused. Then and there, he questioned whether he would still refuse.

As he contemplated further, his certainty about the answer grew. And then another answer dawned on him—an answer so glaringly apparent that he couldn't fathom why it hadn't occurred to him earlier. "Uplifting," said Henry with a beaming, confident smile.

"Huh?" Thanatos perked up.

"The Henry of New." He clutched the hilt of Charos tighter. "A while ago, you asked what I wanted the Henry of New to be like. So, I have decided that I would like for him to be inspiring. To lift others up instead of dragging them down. To give hope and spirit to everyone in need instead of hogging it all for himself. He may not have infinite hope." Henry's smile became serene. "But perhaps he may once again come close to it. Do you believe that is within reach?"

Thanatos and Curie both stared at him wide-eyed. "I have no doubts," said his flier after a while. "Not a single one."

"You have always been inspiring," said Curie with a smile. "From the moment I first met you."

In one swift move, Henry thrust Charos' tip back into the ground. "Then so it shall be."