Heroes

The first time I heard it
Didn't know what it was
I listened to it over and over
I couldn't get enough
I knew every syllable
And the space in between
And I wondered
What my own song would be
 
The rooftops flew underneath his feet as he leapt from building the building as if running towards, or away, some unknown monster. Somewhere, out in the night, a monster hunted the innocent - the one that he was seeking and a hundred hundreds of other smaller evils; true monsters in the shadows of the night and the ones that walked the world in human skin. And of course, the purely simple people and their common, everyday, evils.
 
Compared to that, what was he?
 
I thought I understood what the words meant
I thought I knew the meaning behind
I memorized the sounds and the rhythms
And wondered about the stories inside
I thought I understood what the words meant
I thought that they were written for me
A message spelled out in a language
That only those who have been there
Been there can read
 
The conversation with Violet stuck in his mind like a splinter. Despite everything he'd accomplished so far, all the skills he was learning and all the things he was beginning to do - the change, the difference that he was hoping to make - in the end he was still just running. They were all so much... better.
 
It almost didn't matter which of them came to his mind - heroes lit against the backlights of the world with their armor and their weapons and their truth. A thousand images of them flickered through his mind like the images of a lighten-lantern- Violet in her armor, Cardinal with her lute. Maelie with her guns or Kevan with his sword. His sister, blazing with the lights of knowledge and arcane fire dancing across her fingertips like living stars.
 
Over and over his mind painted the heroes image of them
 
He could see Arinelle standing with her shield before her like dawn meeting the dark. Even Karstadt, bent over her desk with some new tinkering device that would unfold to some hero's help, or the lumbering giant form of Nel as she shepherded children across a busy street.
 
Gentle Muse and wise Nita. Brave Violet and charming Dona. Over and over his mind painted the heroes image of them
 
The first time I heard it
Didn't know what it was
It was foreign and angry and brilliant
I couldn't get enough
But the story behind it
You revealed it to me
And I realized
You had lived through what I had never seen
 
They were just so... good. And he was... well, himself.
 
Time was coming soon he'd need to do another round of courting gifts, his mind pointed out to him helpfully as he landed on a roof, perching at the edge and overlooking the market square. His conversation with Miranda came back to him in stark relief - what did he want? Where was he going with this?
 
Some part of him called to that light he had not known, to send courting gifts and social invites and all the rest. And some part of him knew that the fall awaited him - that he was making promises he could not keep and, knowing so, was all the more the monster for it.
 
I wish I didn't know what the words meant
Or understand the meaning behind
I memorized the sounds and the rhythms
And now I know the stories inside
I wish I didn't know what the words meant
That they were written for me
A message spelled out in a language
That only those who have been there
Been there can read
 
The mission was simple, after all.
 
Find the monsters. Kill the monsters.
 
White lenses regarded the shadows of the marketplace where some other monster lurked. For now, perhaps, maybe that would be enough.
 
Into the darkening shadows of the night, he leapt.