The World to Come

by Eildon Rhymer

 

What if the Dark had won at the end of Silver on the Tree? The world is sliding into darkness, and only tattered remnants of the Light remain. Will, Bran and the Drews grow to adulthood, and each to their own destiny in this World to Come.

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Part three: chapter twenty-one

 

The world to come

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Slowly, gradually, life resumed.

 

Governments toppled. Popular risings tore open the gates of prison camps, and for a while total anarchy seemed likely, until the police, with Pendragon at their head, asserted order with a firm yet gentle touch. Talks were convened. Trust was slowly built, where before there had only been hostility. The new leader of the Resistance met with Bran Pendragon in private, and much was said, and, months later, everyone was more or less agreed that things had started to turn around at that point.

 

On a warm day in autumn, Jane gave birth to her son. She looked deeply into its eyes for signs of magic, but she saw only love. "I want to call him Will," she told her husband, and he let her have her way. He did that often, now. He had lost his job and they had lost their rich apartment, but she was fairly sure now that she would stay with him, at least for a while. She still did not say so, though, just in case.

 

When the first elections were held, Barney Drew was amazed to be elected to Parliament. He saw Bran briefly at the inauguration ceremony, but few people saw Bran after that.

 

"I don't think he's dead," Simon said one night, almost nine months after the midsummer morning that had been both the ending and the beginning of a world.

 

Barney frowned. "I hope not."

 

Bran had been vital to the smooth changeover of government, but there had never been a place in the new world for him. The people were ready to forgive him his worst sins, but they could not see a man like that continue in power. Nor, Barney suspected, did Bran want to stay in power. He had briefly taken control only because Will had wanted it. As soon as the country was stable again, he had vanished.

 

Simon, much to everyone's surprise, had decided to stay at home and look after his mother, while studying at home through one of the newly-re-established universities. "I don't know what I want to do," he admitted, "but I mean to find out." One night, after a few drinks, he confessed more. "I've been trying to prove something all my life, you see, but now I can just be me, whoeever I am."

 

Jane's baby had its first birthday, and his parents were still together. I can leave at any time, Jane had told herself, every single morning for nearly a year. But now, on the morning of her child's birthday, she realised that she had not needed to tell herself that for months. I'm going to stay, she thought. This time she said it, and her husband's smile almost broke her heart.

 

Christmas approached, but, before that, the darkest night of the year. In a house in Buckinghamshire, an old couple raised a glass. "To Will," they said. "To our son."

 

The pale-skinned man on the other side of the hearth raised his own glass in return. "To Will."

 

He had come a year before, terrified of his welcome, but knowing only that he had to bring them news of Will's final hours. Instead, he had found himself embraced. He had stayed one night, and then two. Yes, they knew who he was, but they were too old to bear grudges, and Will had always spoken so fondly of Bran when he was young. They were lonely, it seemed, since all their children had left home, and they had this great huge house, just crying out for someone to stay.

 

"To Will." Bran lowered the glass, and afterwards, he stood in his room, in the room that had once been Will's, and looked out over the dark treetops, to the stars that shone in the night, each one a gleam of purest Light.

 

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END

 

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