A/N: Hello, all! I recently watched The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance and of course wanted to write fic for it! I've been a fan of the original movie for a good long while and was super excited to hear about a prequel series coming out. And gosh, it was fantastic. This is my first time writing for this universe, so I hope it's all right.

Rian slipped back into the village quite as unnoticed as he'd left it, swept up immediately into the tide of jubilation that filled the place from the gathered gelfling. Bodies pressed around him, voices praising him and his friends—celebrating his victory against the General, and Brea for finding something that had been in the broken sword (a crystal of some kind?), and Deet's staggering abilities against the Darkening attack—

"But where is Deet? She should be celebrating with us!" someone piped up, and Rian stumbled away from them, melting into the crowd.

He could not understand what he had seen. Could not wrap his mind around it. His head swam with the image of Deet's face as she'd turned toward him in the forest, veins almost black against her skin, her eyes wide, vividly purple, and infinitely sad. She'd looked into his face, but somehow, he felt, she could no longer truly see him; she'd looked through him, as though they were on different sides of an impassable wall, as if they now belonged to two entirely different worlds.

It was that look that had stopped him from going after her as soon as he spotted her behind him. That impression that she had lived a thousand lifetimes in a single moment and knew pain and sorrow like he never would.

Something had died within her, and his heart shattered to think of it. Gentle Deet, her eyes perpetually bright and smiling, her voice like chiming bells, was gone. Her very presence in the forest had caused the vegetation to wither and die around her, burnt and blackened trees spiderwebbed with sick purple veins curling over the path that he might have used to reach her, choking out any light from the suns that could have reached the forest floor.

She hadn't said a word to him. By the time he'd gotten past the shock of it all and searched for another glimpse of her, she had gone. And, cringing in shame, he had run, as he had all his life.

He cursed the Sanctuary Tree and its final gift. The power that had saved their lives, but had wrenched away Deet's spirit.

Go back and help her, he told himself desperately. Help her as you couldn't help Mira, or your father.

But how could he help her when he didn't even know what she'd become?

"Rian?"

His head snapped up and he was suddenly acutely aware of the wetness on his cheeks. He had managed to make his way past the edges of the crowd and into the shadow of one of the structures, and saw, with a little thrum of dread, Brea making her way cautiously toward him.

"Rian, are you all right?"

"I—" How could she ask that? Had she not seen—?

But then he saw the expression on her face, and he remembered that she had just watched her sister die, not long after the same fate had befallen her mother. And Deet was her friend, too.

Rian looked away from her, absently wiping the tears from his face, and whispered, "She's gone." The words were a near echo of what he'd said after seeing his father vanish into the field of Gobbles. He sank to the ground, his back pressed against the wooden wall of the house. "She's gone."

Brea sat down next to him, her gaze taking in the throng of gelflings before them, some talking, some cheering, some crying. "And she won't come back?"

He bowed his head, his eyes sliding closed. "I don't know."

Wordlessly, Brea reached down and took his hand in hers. Not to dreamfast—just to be there.

"I found the shard," Brea said, her voice hardly more than a breath. "The Crystal Shard, the one broken from the Crystal of Truth. It was in the sword handle, the Dual Glaive, it's- it's what the Heretic wanted us to find, it's what can heal the Crystal and end all of this, end the Skeksis…"

Rian took a shuddering breath, taking in her words and knowing that in the coming time they would be important, essential—but for now it didn't matter. For now, all that he cared about was the image of Deet wandering alone into a dying forest, and who would be the one to tell Deet's family and Hup, and the question of whether he might ever see those warm brown eyes of hers again.

The dead had been moved into the hall of Maudra Fara, now cleared of all the damage Rian had caused during his last visit there.

There were remarkably few deaths. Maudra Fara herself, laid in a place of honor near her throne; Tavra nearby as princess to the Vapra, with Brea and Seladon kneeling by her side; and others whose names Rian did not know, but no less regretted. They would receive their funeral rites in due time, after the remnants of the battle had been cleared and their weapons tossed into the Forge, and would each be returned to Thra.

At Rian's insistence, the three dead Skeksis were given some amount of respect as well. What could be found of their crumbled remains and armor was gathered together and set against the walls away from the others while the remaining Maudras discussed what rites might be used for them, their nigh-immortal enemies whom they had once believed to be friends.

He had asked this not only because, as Rian suspected, the Skeksis likely either had vile funeral rites for their own kind or none at all—and every living creature deserved the chance to return to Thra, or wherever it was the fractured UrSkeks went when they perished—but also in honor of the three Mystics he now knew had died with them. Two of them unknown to him, one of them the Archer, who had gravely injured himself in an attempt to save their lives once before and had now died to save them all once again.

"Who would have thought it, the Skeksis can die?" Gurjin appeared at Rian's side, uncharacteristically quiet. Together they gazed down at the pile of dust and dented armor that had once been the Hunter.

"Everything dies, Gurjin," Rian said just as softly.

"Not them. Not for hundreds and hundreds of trine, at least. But now there's been three in one day, and we did that—well, you did, and Deet."

Rian's heart lurched at the mention of Deet, as well as the reminder that as much as he had intended to leave the General alive, they had still found his armor scattered on the ground after the battle, among the clumps of dust and rock that signified he had perished along with the Collector and the Hunter.

He had never killed before. After all he had seen today, he vowed he never would again.

Naia came up on his other side, joining them in their vigil. "Some are mourning for Deet," she said. "They mourn her as they mourn for the dead. What happened to her, Rian? Did you see her?"

It was Mira's death all over again. Rian had explained to the others, one group after another, what he had seen in the forest when he'd pursued after Deet. Many had wanted to go after her themselves, but Aughra had firmly advised against it.

"Gentle Deet walks her own path now," she had said, not unkindly, when Rian had asked if there was anything that could be done. "Aughra can see much, perhaps too much, but the way of Deet has been hidden in shadow."

Rian's despair must have shown clearly on his face, because she continued, "Time, perhaps, will reveal the answers to us. The Sanctuary Tree gave her this power for a reason, you know, and it knew what it was doing as well as any of us do. Now help me over to that throne, I want to pay my respects."

"I'll explain," Gurjin said to his sister, yanking Rian from his thoughts and saving him from having to relive the memory yet again. "I think Rian needs a bit of a break, huh? Go and get some sunlight, mate." He gave Rian a gentle nudge to the shoulder. Rian allowed himself a bit of a smile, before turning and heading through the large doors, back outside.

He'd cut in front of Deet here once, as she waited at the front of the line to see Maudra Fara about Hup's unjust imprisonment. It was the first time he ever saw her. He hadn't exactly made a great first impression.

He passed over the spot where she had stood and wandered toward the center of the village, staring off toward the forest. For a moment he thought he saw a flicker of white-blonde hair against the trees, a flash of greenish skin and shining eyes the color of the night sky, but he blinked and saw nothing.

I have to do something, he determined, his eyes lingering on the spot.

Though they had won this battle, he had failed so often already: he had watched the deaths of Mira and his father and done nothing; his inexperienced actions had indirectly cost the lives of All-Maudra Mayrin, of Tavra, of Maudra Fara, the Archer, and so many others; he had gotten Gurjin tortured, and... Deet…

He could have helped her, he could have attacked the Emperor with a piece of the broken Dual Glaive, tried to break that evil staff before he could wield it, somehow stopped Deet from gaining the Sanctuary Tree's power in the first place, done something, and he had not.

But he could do something now. Whatever had happened to her, she was still Deet, and he was going to find her no matter what it did to him—he was going to find her, and help her.

Because they were friends, and that's what friends do. They help.