Arcane Anew

((Second half or more will release later tonight))

'I remember why I don't like concerts,' Orion thought, grumbling to himself as he stood before a crowd of people cheering and screaming at deafening volumes.

The previous day, during dinner, there was plenty of talk about music and instruments. Orion, however, didn't know anything. He tried asking questions, but most of it went over his head.

The whole time, Seraphine and Kieran had been staring at him, which only added to his discomfort. His mask was off to eat, and he figured that might have something to do with it.

"Hey, wait, aren't you-" Seraphine had started to ask, but Kieran cleared his throat, shaking his head.

Seraphine looked at her father, confused. Orion, equally confused, asked, "Aren't I what?"

There was a brief pause before Kieran spoke.

"Have you walked along the main road since you've returned," he asked.

"No, not really. Outside of crossing it or walking with you."

Seraphine stabbed at her food, frowning as her glare fixed on Orion.

"You'll find out tomorrow," she said, her voice restrained but heavy with accusation. "Trying to bring harmony became so much harder because of you!"

"What did I do?" Orion asked, genuinely confused.

"That's enough," Kieran interjected with a weary sigh. "You'll find out tomorrow. For now, let's enjoy our meal."

It probably didn't go the way Kieran had envisioned. His face carried subtle traces of disappointment, but the next day, Orion understood why Seraphine was so agitated with him after seeing his face.

At the heart of the main road, standing amidst the bustling crowd, was a statue about the size of a grown man. It depicted a boy running, his jacket flaring out as if caught in a gust of wind. His face wore a defiant smirk, one that seemed to mock the onlookers surrounding him.

Orion froze and facepalmed his mask. His stomach churned as he stared at the statue, cringing. Disbelief and irritation clawed at him.

'What the fuck?' Orion groaned inwardly, leaning in to read the placard. 'The Soul of Zaun'

His thoughts spiraled as he exhaled sharply. 'Don't I get a fucking say? Guess not. I suppose being dead means forfeiting your opinion.' Orion exhaled sharply. 'Zaun... This reeks of Silco. Or... could Vander have changed after all?'

The worst thing was how detailed the statue was. It captured many of his features, so the question came up as to why Zarkon, or any of those thugs, didn't say anything.

'I guess they weren't staring at me as hard as Seraphine was...' Orion mused.

Further down the road, another fresh statue caught Orion's eye. It was a statue of Benzo.

Benzo's hand rested on his stomach, the other holding a tankard as though mid-toast. His face was beaming with a joyful grin, a warm and familiar presence.

'This was Vander's doing,' Orion thought with certainty, a small chuckle escaping him. His gaze lingered, a warm feeling and a stark contrast to the discomfort he felt a moment ago.

'It feels nice, I suppose,' Orion thought softly as he began walking again, a gentle warmth lingering in his chest. 'Most people wonder if they'll be remembered at all, rather than just another corpse in the ground...'

Gentle thoughts tugged at his mind bringing a sense of warmth. But alongside them came twinges of guilt like a quiet reminder- he wasn't actually dead.

His thoughts swirled with intensity, caught between the comfort of being remembered and the guilt of living without them knowing.

Soon, however, the deafening roar of a concert filled the streets. A street was transformed into a stage, and people were from all around- topside and undercity- to listen.

Orion blinked, gaze sweeping over the boisterous, chaotic crowd, before letting out a resigned sigh.

'I remember why I don't like concerts.'