Galenn
Legacy Name: Galenn

Joseph was only six years old, and a homeless orphan. His only family was his fifteen-year-old sister, Elisabeth—or Lizzbeth, as he preferred to call her. But she was missing, and no matter how desperately he cried her name, he couldn’t find her, and she couldn’t find him. She’d pushed him into a corner of an alley, tucked away behind a dumpster, and told him to stay put, but he’d followed her anyway, and now he was lost.

Hot tears rolled down his cheeks as he sprinted around a corner and down the street. His breath came out in short puffs of fog, but he didn’t stop, no matter how hard he panted. Suddenly, from somewhere ahead of him, there was a sound like something whistling through the air. A shop nearby exploded outward with the sudden flare of billowing flames. The windows shattered, the framework twisted and fell outward, and bits of metal and wood flew in all directions. A chunk of steel struck Joseph, who crumpled to the ground with a scream.

For many minutes, he lay there, whimpering and still sobbing for Lizzbeth while the flames smoldered on and clouds of black smoke rose like a giant black monster waking from its fiery pit. Before long, however, a man appeared out of the gloom, strolling along with a sad weight to his steps, like someone who carried the grief of thousands on his shoulders. He did not even seem to notice his surroundings, but was searching the ground, looking for something in particular.

He was tall and slight, appearing to be in his mid-twenties. He had longish brown hair that curled around his ears and a young, childish face with an almost elfin quality to it. His eyes, however, didn’t seem to match the rest of him—they were a darkish blue color and framed by long lashes, but most importantly, they were old. His eyes seemed to have a knowing quality to them: a deep, sorrowful understanding, too bleak and too unfathomable to be the same age as his face. He wore a white suit with the top few buttons of his shirt left open and, in contrast to his surroundings, it appeared to give off a faint glow.

When he spotted the child lying sprawled on the asphalt, he paused, and in that moment, his burden seemed to become heavier. His eyes carried a grave acceptance as he stepped through the debris and knelt down by the boy.

“Lizzbeth,” sobbed the boy, lifting a hand weakly towards him. “Where’s Lizzbeth?”

“I don’t know,” he murmured honestly in a smooth Estuary accent, taking the child’s hand in his own, “but we’ll find her, alright? You and me, we’ll find Lizzbeth.” He offered the boy a small, reassuring smile. “Come on.” Releasing the boy’s hand, he wrapped his suit jacket around the boy. Then he slid one arm under his knees and the other under his shoulders, lifting him up gently.

“Lizzbeth,” the boy sniffed. More tears streamed down his face as he blinked.

“Hush, now,” whispered the man, setting off down the street. “I’ll carry you to her, don’t worry.” After a few steps of silence between them, he asked, “What’s your name, hm?”

“J-Joseph,” stammered the boy, his breath coming in shuddering gasps. His tiny body wracked suddenly with hacking coughs; if they concerned or worried the man, however, he didn’t show it. “Who are you?” countered Joseph, his voice now scratchy and hoarse.

“My name’s Galenn,” replied the man in the same soft voice he’d been using. “It’s nice to meet you, Joseph.”

Another pause. “Are we almost there?” asked Joseph. “Can I see Lizzbeth yet?”

“Just a bit further,” promised Galenn, looking up at the street they were on. He knew exactly where she was, and he was heading towards her now, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He returned his gaze to Joseph. “Is Lizzbeth your mother?”

“She’s my—” Joseph started, but he broke off as he coughed again. “—my sister,” he finished. He was wheezing now, and Galenn’s breath caught in his throat when he noticed blood leaking out of the sides of Joseph’s mouth. He didn’t know how the sight could possibly still bother him after all he’d seen, but at the same time, he was grateful: it made him feel more human.

“You’re a lucky boy,” murmured Galenn with a weak smile. “I never had a sister.” By this point, Joseph was unable to speak; he probably hadn’t even heard Galenn’s last remark. After a minute, when Galenn was standing under a dark streetlamp, Joseph suddenly stilled and fell limp in his arms, his head sagging against Galenn’s shoulder. The man stopped walking, his eyes closed for a brief moment. He bent his head down and planted a soft kiss on the boy’s forehead. “Goodbye, Joseph,” he whispered.

He could still feel it: a quiet niggling at the edge of his consciousness, like a sixth sense guiding his footsteps. He knew where to go, and he continued to follow his instincts without question. It wasn’t long before he heard a female voice calling in a panicked voice, “Joseph? Joseph, where are you?”

“Are you Lizzbeth?” asked Galenn as he rounded a street corner. The girl, who was halfway down the street and facing the other direction, turned with the swiftness of someone who’d lost their innocence at an early age.

“Who are you?” she asked sharply. It was hard to judge what she looked like, it was so dark, but from what he could see, she looked to be a fairly pretty girl in her teens.

“I’m sorry,” said Galenn with sympathy in his eyes as he shifted Joseph’s body in his arms. “A bomb fell on Birmingham Street. There was nothing I could do…”

At first, she looked confused and almost outraged, but her eyes became round and fearful as she stepped forward, getting a closer look at the bundle Galenn held in his arms. “Oh, my God,” she said in a half-whisper. “Oh, my God… Joseph…” Her face twisted as she brushed Joseph’s face with her fingertips. She broke down in a howl of grief, burying her head in his jacket. Galenn stood patiently, his downcast gaze respectfully sorrowful. Eventually she took Joseph’s body in her arms and sank down to the pavement, his head in her lap as she curled over him, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Galenn sat down on the other side of her, rubbing her back wordlessly.

After a few minutes, her crying subsided to shuddering breaths. “Thank you,” she said, glancing at him out of the corners of her glistening eyes. “Thank you for bringing him to me.” She sniffed. After a moment, she pulled his jacket out from under Joseph’s body and handed it to him. It was smeared with blood and soot, but Galenn took it without a word. “You don’t look hurt,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “Were you there when the bomb fell?”

He shook his head, standing. “I just happened to be passing by,” he answered.

“Was he dead when you found him?” she asked. Her voice cracked on the word “dead.”

“No,” he replied, shaking his head again. “He was still alive, and asking for you.” Her breath caught with a gasp, but he continued, “I’m so sorry, but he passed on just moments before I reached you.”

She sobbed again, involuntarily, but he could tell she was trying to hold it back. “At least he didn’t die alone,” she said in a choked voice, offering him a feeble smile.

He returned the smile, but, like hers, it didn’t reach his eyes. Then, slinging his jacket over his shoulder, he walked away down the street, and darkness swallowed him.