Pools.
        Soft ponds and puddles and streams surround me. The dirt is damp and mossy, bare in places where it seems to call for plant life to begin.
        I slowly open my hand to reveal a seed like the ones found in an apple core, small and black like a bug in my palm. Glancing up I can see the hunched figure of the woman from before. Her frail body trembles as if she's being struck repeatedly by unseen blows, as if the ground beneath her feet has turned against her, as if the air doesn't wish to let her breathe it in.
     I look back at the seed and wait, knowing it should grow, wanting it to grow, but it stays dead and dark. Lifeless.
     Then another figure approaches, holding something silver in his hand. A light seems to expand outward from the metallic object, bathing our surroundings in bright white light. I feel a slight tickling in my palm, and looking down I see the seed tremble slightly, like a bird's egg. Then the dark skin breaks, and a slim white root creeps along my palm.
     The growth quickens with an explosion of tendrils snaking outward, and I hurriedly set it in the moist soil at my feet. Seconds later a green shoot springs upward, unfolding leaves and climbing higher all the while. I back away and watch expectantly as the sapling morphs into a full grown tree, towering above the two people and myself. The white light doesn't dim, but the figure holding its source approaches the woman. He puts his arm around her and she straightens, strength infusing her body in an instant.
     And bright red apples appear, hanging from the new tree's branches.
     I reach into my pocket and pull out a handful of assorted seeds. I grin and toss them into the air. They sprout as I watch, and the dreary Underland cavern is full of life and beauty.
     The man with the light--his arm still encircling the regal woman--looks down at his  hand, at the silvery object that is the cause of all this, and he smiles.

     I come to awareness so quickly that it's almost like a switch is flipped in my brain. I was asleep, and now suddenly I'm awake. My eyes snap open and I jerk upright involuntarily. My head is achy and pounding like crazy. I rub my temples and take a look around the room.
     I'm in a bed in the hospital wing with a familiar antiseptic smell in the air. Judging by my headache and sore limbs, the hospital is no surprise. But the person in the chair next to me does make me do a double take. In the seat where I would expect to see Luxa, is Henry the Overlander.
     "Hey, how you feeling?" Henry asks. Judging by the dark rings under his eyes and the weary slump to his shoulders, he hasn't slept in a while. That makes me wonder how long I've been out. Henry looked well-slept when I last saw him in the High Hall just before--
     "Oh my--" I take a deep, shuddering breath and put my hands to my face as I remember the flood. All the bodies, the blood, the water that washed away everything and everyone. I look back up at Henry. "How many--I mean, is Luxa--"
     "She's fine." Henry reassures me. "Well, as fine as she can be considering the situation." I open my mouth to ask how bad it is but Henry explains before I can get in a word. "Twenty-four are dead." His expression is somber. "Twenty-four humans anyway. The count of rat, uh I mean, gnawer bodies was at eighty-seven last I heard. The backlash of the wave hit the shores where the gnawers fish as well. It wasn't as bad as it was here, but there were a lot of younger ones playing near the water when it happened. The fliers rescued as many as they could, but, well... There was only so much they could do."
     My eyes start to well up as Henry goes on. "Two fliers died. And a mouse--nibbler--emissary on his way to ask Luxa for help finding more food. All the other creatures near the flood were safely inside the palace, so that's it for the death count. A lot more were injured though, but everyone who's lived this long is recovering well enough that they'll survive. Luxa has been taking care of burial arrangements and reparations for the belongings that were washed away.
     "The funeral is later today, if you're feeling up to it. Luxa said to tell you she's worried about you, but 'I simply cannot neglect my duties as Queen.'" Henry smiles a little as he does a fairly good impression of Luxa's voice. I feel my lips twitch, but a smile won't come right now.
     "Where's the funeral?" I ask, swinging my legs over the side of the bed and carefully getting to my feet.
     "Next to the garden on the far side of the fields. Now hold on, take it slow, Gregor. You had a concussion, and a couple broken ribs. I found you passed out before I helped bring you back here. You really shouldn't be walking around yet." He takes my arm and I reluctantly sit back down again.
     "Well that explains why it hurts to breathe. And my headache." I touch the back of my skull, and feel the sore spot where I must have hit my head during the wave. "But wait, since when is there a garden on the far side of the fields?"
     "Since the stones came raining." Nerissa glides into the room, easily interjecting herself into the conversation. She comes close to me and gives me a careful hug before stepping back next to Henry. "The water brought more than death and destruction. You will have to see this for yourself."
     "If you say so, Nerissa." I lie back down on the bed, propping my back up with the few pillows so I can relax but talk comfortably. I look at the two people with me--the Overlander and the Underlander-- and have a sense of deja vu.
     The hunched figure of a woman...like a ghost dressed in gossamer sheets of fabric...the man with the light in his hand...the regal woman, strength infusing her body in an instant.
     I stare, a little dumbfounded, at the changes in Nerissa. I almost didn't notice them at first, but she looks stronger as she stands there. Healthier. More alive than I've ever seen her before. And the man next to her... it's Henry. The two stand mere inches apart and they turn to look at each other for a brief moment. Henry carefully puts his arm around Nerissa's waist and she smiles.
     Maybe something good has come out of this disaster after all.
             ...
     A few hours later I slowly make my way out of the hospital wing, brushing the walls with a hand to keep my balance. I still feel a little light-headed and the last thing I need is to fall and give myself another concussion.
     When I reach the palace wall I again realize I've left myself without a ride down. Same as when we left for the sewer tunnels.
     A flash of silver catches my attention and I smile a little as Eris lands in front of me. "Gregor," He hisses in a voice like Ares. But for once it doesn't sound exactly the same. There's something new in it, something kinder, almost tender in the way he says my name. "Need you, a lift to the fields?"
     "Yeah, that would be great, Eris. Thank you." I climb on his back and he takes off smoothly, flying out over the city like an arrow steaking to its target. I look over his side as we fly and am surprised to see Regalia looking almost normal. The stone buildings are unmoved and undamgaed, the torches are routinely lit and the smoke creates a familiar haze that I've grown accustomed too.
     The only difference is the lack of people in the streets. They must all be at the funeral.
     Eris lands on an open stretch of moss just past the fields. The entrance to the arena is visible in the distance, and the darkness hangs like a net over out heads.
     But there is something different here. Something that makes me think of home. Of New York and Central Park in the springtime. And of the small flower box Mom used to keep outside the kitchen window.
     It takes me a moment to figure out what the difference is. There's a smell to the air, and the ground beneath us isn't just covered in moss. I bend down and touch the earth with my hand, feeling the small stems that are slowly pushing their way upward here and there. Blades of grass and tiny weeds are carefully climbing out of the dirt among the moss. And the smell in the air is of opening leaves in springtime.
     A smile pulls across my face, and as my eyes adjust to the dim light I can see that the patch of new growth is much bigger than I thought. It's over the size of a football field, and it stretches from here to the arena's curtain, to the waters edge in the distance.
     And now I notice the people gathered as well. They aren't too far from us, and Eris and I quietly approach from behind. It looks like every citizen of Regalia has made it for the funeral. And every gnawer, flier, nibbler, and crawler who was close enough to come. The spinner and digger from the council are here as well, and for a moment I think I see a stinger crouching in the shadows near the water, but the dim torch light flickers and the shape is gone.
     The ceremony is just beginning, and Luxa's words drift over the hundreds of heads until they find their way to me, like they always will.
     "We have lost." There is a quaver in her voice that speaks of sorrow untold. Sorrow that no one her age should have experienced. The sorrow of a Queen who has lost her people.
     "We have lost this fight. Although it may not have been a battle of swords and arrows and spears, it was a battle none the less. It was a battle against our nature, against our desire to destroy those who oppose us. The Overlanders are responsible for killing our people, but the Overlanders have paid the price for their sins."
     I look sideways at Eris, a slight alarm coloring my cheeks. Were they executed? I ask with me eyes.
     No. Eris seems to say. Escape. I remember the first time I came to the Underland with Boots. How I tried to escape down the tumultuous Waterway in a boat, and I know that's what must have happened to the Overlanders. We left them in the High Hall when we went to save the drowning, and they must have decided to run. And no one survived that part of the river in a boat. The Overlanders who were mining—the ones who caused the rock to fracture when it did—there's no way they survived either. They were probably either crushed or drowned or both.
     I think of Richard--the only Overlander other than Henry who I hoped would see the right path--and tears threaten to flood my eyes. So many dead.
     "My people, though we may have lost this fight, and the countless, priceless lives of our friends and family, we do not end this day with only suffering. The Flood brought more than death, and therefore the Overlanders have as well. They have brought fertility and life to this field.
     "They have brought us hope of a brighter future. Therefore do not hate the Overlanders! We have seen their evil, but we have also seen their good. Look at our Warrior!" A ripple runs through the crowd as Luxa's hands sweep toward me. A small path clears between me and the Queen and I see Nerissa and Henry and—Richard as well by her side. He must not have ran with the others. Two can be saved from the dark... A bit of hope creeps into me, and Luxa begins walking forward, slowly, violet gaze unfaltering.
     "The Warrior has brought us LIFE! At the end of his prophecy he put down his sword and showed us the way to move forward, to accept our enemies as our friends. WERE THE GNAWERS NOT OUR ENEMIES?" Luxa demands, whipping around to face the crowd, meeting eye after eye until a murmur of agreement rises. I can see what she's doing. Luxa is trying to convince the Regalians not to hate all Overlanders. She's trying to save Richard and Henry. And me. "And what are the gnawers now?" Luxa's voice drops and softens. The people even cease to breathe, they're so quietly captivated.
     "They are our friends. Our allies. Our companions, and our neighbors. The have come closer to us in these recent months of hardship and we see them differently than before. In a kinder light.
     "We will mourn the lost. We will mourn the dead. But I ask you this: do not remember only what the Overlanders destroyed. Remember what they gave us and see them in a kinder light than you are now." Luxa begins walking again, and a moment later she is standing next to me, close enough to touch hands. But we both stand up tall and face the crowd—apart and together at the same time.
     "I name this land the Lost Garden. For it was lost to us until the Overlanders brought us life. And those we lost in the Flood shall be buried here and forever remembered in name."
     Clapping doesn't fill the air. Cheers don't rise up like they do in movies. Instead, companionable silence settles over the people like a blanket. Sniffles and choking sobs peep out here and there, and arms hurry to comfort. Small smiles scatter through faces, and wonder grows in the eyes of children and adults alike as they bend down to touch the buds of growth they stand on.
     After a long while I look over at Luxa. Her emotion-filled eyes mirror my own and I take her hand and lean in close. "This is what home feels like." I whisper in her ear. She nods and smiles, and we watch our people as their pools of sorrow melt away.