When I was 7, my hard-working, loving, kind, amazing mother was diagnosed with breast cancer.

I was 7; I didn’t know what that meant. I knew my parents were scared. I knew my mom suddenly had about a million doctor appointments, often even far-away doctor appointments, in the closest big city to my smaller hometown (which was only an hour and a half away, but that seemed like eternity to me). I remember everyone talking about how long other cancer patients had survived; 4 years, 5 years. Never much longer than that.

That was fewer years than I had even been alive. I should’ve been scared, but I don’t remember being scared. I remember thinking my mom would beat all the records; of course she would. That’s just the kind of person she was. She had raised my older brother as a single parent for 10 years before my father came along. There were plenty of men she could have married before that, just to make things a little easier, just to have some extra income, or a tax break. I could tell plenty of stories. But my mother wasn’t like that; she would never settle. She would never put up with arrogance, or mediocrity, or anything other than kindness. She would only take love. And I know there will be some who think that is silly and romantic, but I’m not talking about attraction. She knew that love is a choice, love is something you build together, love is kindness, friendship, compassion, patience, support, growing together into more than you could be alone. She wanted the best for herself and her son and she worked to get the best on her own merit, and didn’t marry until she found someone who wanted the same thing, someone who loved her and her child.

And then I came along. And she taught me how to work hard and how to love, for 7 years. And there were plenty of younger siblings, too, who gave me plenty of practice. She taught me how to believe in myself. I’m still not as good at it as she was. I didn’t have very long with her. But everything I know about anything, every shred of self-esteem I have, I can trace back to her. She was my hero. She was my whole world. I wanted to be just like her.

When she got her long, beautiful hair cut in preparation for chemotherapy, I got my hair cut too, exactly like hers. It sounds cliché. I didn’t know what clichés were. I was 7. I just wanted to be like her, and be with her. I wanted her to know I loved her and she taught me that love means you’re there for each other in the hard times. It means making sacrifices to support each other. I didn’t have a lot. I couldn’t do a lot. My hair was the biggest sacrifice I could make.

I gave it without blinking. I didn’t think twice. Everything was going to be worth it. She was going to survive. She was going to beat cancer. Of course she was.

When she got sick, she didn’t have as much energy as she had before. She couldn’t do all the things she was used to; build a fishpond, take care of horses, keep a garden, build a house. There were a lot of things she did before and a lot of things she still wanted to do, but she just couldn’t yet. It would all have to wait until she was done with chemotherapy.

She started playing computer games to pass the time, and to have a way to play with her children. She would read all the text and explain the stories to us and we would crowd around her and watch, and listen. Sometimes we would take turns with the keyboard, but it didn’t really matter if we got a turn or not. This was our time with her. It was a treasure.

A few years passed; I could easily do the math and give a close estimate of how many, but I never have. I don’t want to. Leave it at a few, let it be vague like a fairy tale. The time exists on a separate plane for me. It can’t be measured in years. It was time with my mother.

I remember particularly the day we found Ahriman’s Prophecy. A lot of the games my mother played were hour-long trials; she only bought the games if we really liked them. But Ahriman’s Prophecy was free. We spent hours watching her play. We loved the atmosphere. The music was charming. Elden felt like home in a way I’ve never quite been able to define. Maybe it was Grandmama’s garden. Maybe it was just the company I was in when the world was introduced to me. I don’t know if I’ll ever know.

Thais felt like the start of an adventure. It just has this feel of a life on the cusp of happening, opportunity knocking, greatness within waiting to be found. Especially in AP.

And the characters! We loved the characters. I think Talia reminded me of my mother. Maybe my sisters. Or maybe she reminded me of myself. It’s hard to sort out, I just knew I loved her. She was a girl who had been through a lot, who had a lot left to go through still. And she was the hero. She was going to save the world, whether it was her job or not.

We loved how noble Devin was; never because he thought he was going to get anything out of it, but because he wanted to help people. He wanted to make a difference. He had an epic quality to him. All of the characters did. They were going to beat Ahriman against all odds and we were going to beat cancer– and I shouldn’t say it like it was such a clear parallel in my mind, I was young, I didn’t know what I thought. I just remember I was inspired. My belief in them was all mixed up in my belief in us and I can’t separate it. All of it is the same thing now.

We loved Jack. My mother always had a soft spot for the young and troubled. I always related to the young and troubled. I don’t know which came first. I just remember feeling so proud and hopeful when Jack told Vel he was trying to reform in one playthrough, and so devastated when he left the party in another. And then the triumph and hope when he was found in Thais again, and allowed to join the party again, this time at level 99– and I know it was a bug, but I’m so glad it was allowed to stay because to me that said you can always try again and sometimes you can come back stronger from tragedy and I needed that. I still need that.

We loved Frederick. Again, the metaphors were not clear in my mind, I didn’t consciously draw the parallels, but we were stuck in a tiny house because my mother couldn’t go very far and she just wanted to go and do and learn, and he was stuck in a tiny secret village and he wanted to be something besides a chicken. And he loved his brother and wanted to bring him home safely, and my brother 10 years my senior had left home recently enough and we wanted him to come back too.

We loved Alicia. How could anyone not love Alicia? She is fierce and determined and she might not be the best but she’s resolved to be her best at any cost– and she’s gonna prove it to everyone. She does everything in her own time but she always comes through for those who need her.

I could go on, but the point is, we loved Ahriman’s Prophecy. I even remember pretending to be the characters with my siblings; I was Jack and sometimes Talia or Devin. We were very invested in the story and the success and happiness of the characters. So when it turned out Ahriman wasn’t defeated, we had to see what happened next.

My mom bought Aveyond 1.

And there was our beloved Talia again, with her glorious red hair, running from a mysterious monster. I’m talking about Agas, of course. He tried to kill our hero, but she didn’t die. Heroes never die, you see.

And then there was that beautiful music, while the portal butterfly flies across the sea– and then we met Rhen.

I will never forget that moment. I loved her at first sight. She had purple hair. Purple was and is my favorite color, and there were never characters with purple. And she was so happy, and practical but whimsical, and she had so many questions and she wasn’t afraid to look for answers, and in the title art she had a really cool sword, and I wanted to be just like her.

We met Tailor and at first we thought he was Jack, and Ma must be Alicia in disguise– that’s how my favorite AP crackship was born. Now you know. Not really an epic origin story, but it came from time with my mom. It means a lot to me.

Then a lot of things happened. Rhen was separated from Talia, and from not-Jack and not-Alicia, and she ended up in a horrible place.

My mother had never been the type to put up with being mistreated or disrespected. She was not the sort to teach her daughters that boys who tried to hurt or intimidate us were “just flirting,” or that love meant sticking with someone despite bad behavior. We knew to love ourselves first. We knew to accept nothing less than respect. So to see Rhen, already living out my worst fear (being separated from her mother) and then being treated like that… it was very sad for me. I worried about her. I still get a sick feeling in my stomach when I remember it.

Rhen had a few friends, though. The tailor Terlin, who encouraged her to respect herself, and the little boy Eddie, who still had hope despite everything.

When Rhen defended Eddie, at the risk of her own life, against her own tormentor– I was blown away. I already adored and idolized her but this was the moment I realized I always would– and that’s been true to this day. This is the moment that establishes Rhen as a true hero to me. I grew up hearing stories from aunts and uncles and family friends of my mom defending them from teachers or peers or anyone who tried to put them down– I said before, she didn’t put up with disrespect, no matter who it was coming from. She had a soft spot for the young and troubled. She always stood up for the innocent and helpless, and here was Rhen doing the same.

If you’ve read In Pieces and you’re reading this, now you see how transparent I am. I didn’t even make a metaphor of anything. I just wrote how I felt.

The schooling part was never that interesting to me. I don’t like school and the only remotely appealing character was Lorad. The next thing I really remember was finding Devin. We didn’t realize it was Devin at first; his hair was darker. And he was so sad and hopeless. I remember the mood around the computer being somber at this part. It was the first hint of the tragedy between-games that I consciously internalized. And see, things like this are why I recommend playing AP first. If you don’t know Thais, if you haven’t already felt the life in its atmosphere, the opportunity, the glorious adventure waiting to happen, and if you don’t know how noble and ardent and ambitious Devin was before, you will miss out on how shocking and sad this moment was.

Not that I want anyone to be sad. But for me, it added layers of meaning to the story that I would need later.

Now, you might’ve noticed I’ve been skipping over some important parts: the cutscenes with Dameon. I mentioned I relate to the young and troubled characters, and my mother always had a soft spot for them. But we didn’t know Dameon yet. We just knew he was angry.

I remember the first time my mom walked Rhen into the Sun Temple after getting the rowboat, and the flutter of surprise and anxiety when we saw Dameon standing front and center. We thought we were going to have to fight Dameon. I remember my mom replenishing all the hp and mp, and saving the game, and taking a deep breath– I still remember the sound. I guess it’s random but for whatever reason that particular inhale is forever locked in my mind. And she walked Rhen up to him, and pressed spacebar.

And Rhen said hello.

And I fell in love again.

Maybe I had some sort of presentiment that we would share a lot in the future, even then in the midst of my denial. Maybe he reminded me of my older brother, or maybe it was just my propensity towards the young and troubled at work again. Maybe I was just crazy. But if my idol Rhen believed in Dameon, then I was going to believe in him, too.

And of course my mother had a soft spot for him.

Rhen’s Quest is a long game, and if you’re here then I imagine you’ve already played it, and I still have a lot to talk about after I talk about this playthrough, so I’ll leave it at I loved Rhen to the end, and when we got the choice to join or fight Dameon it was devastating, and when Rhen refused to fight him and instead saved him it filled me with so much hope– and Ahriman was finally defeated, and the world was right again and Rhen could rebuild Thais and make everything full of hope and adventure again, and it was going to be okay. We were going to be okay.

We were not okay. My mom passed away not long after finishing the game.

She had been going that way for a while, but I didn’t comprehend it. She was less and less able to move. There were more and more appointments– and then none. The doctors refused to do anymore. They sent her to a nursing home and she died the first night there.

I wasn’t a fully formed person. I didn’t know how to deal with that kind of loss. Does anyone? It is one thing to lose a parent when you are old. I am not saying I’m prepared for it, I’m not saying it will be easy. But I was a child. My mother was my entire world, my teacher, my guide, my home, my hero. Heroes aren’t supposed to die.

But cancer doesn’t care.

I remember being devastated. And angry. And I remember not knowing how I felt or how I was supposed to feel. I remember wishing it had been me instead. I remember feeling alone and lost, like nobody could understand me and I couldn’t understand me. It sounds like a bad line in a YA novel but it was real for me. Some days it still is.

I also remember that Aveyond was there for me. Specifically, Dameon was there. Dameon knew what it was like. He was acquainted with grief. He knew how it twisted itself into rage. He knew the pain of betrayal– why couldn’t the doctors keep trying, just a little longer? Why wasn’t the ambulance faster? Why did cancer ever have to exist in the first place? Why couldn’t Talia just stun her husband, imprison him, anything— anything but this. There had to be another answer. We were desperate to find that answer.

And we were both too late. We had to learn to live in this stupid merciless world or burn ourselves to ashes. And we didn’t know where or how to begin the first, so you see where this was heading.

But Rhen saved us. Over and over again. We were wretched messes, destined to collapse in on ourselves and take the world with us. We were justice. We were wrath. We were lost children, and Rhen found us and told us to open our eyes.

She believed in Dameon, and that meant she believed in me. She helped me remember how to do what my mother had taught me– believe in myself.

Fairy dust doesn’t take the pain away. It can’t sooth frightened or angry or anguished hearts. It doesn’t change facts or feelings. It can only reveal the truth.

The truth was, we were in darkness, but we were not the dark. Rhen and Dameon helped me believe that there is still good in me, no matter how low I am feeling. There is still hope, no matter how terrible things get. Life is hard but it can also be beautiful– even now. I am salvageable. I am worth it. The end that seems to define my life does not have to be my end.

The end of the game does not have to be the end of the story, because Rhen can choose to face her own fears, to trust her own heart instead of doing what seems practical or easy, she can choose to believe she is enough and she is worth it and sometimes new life grows from destruction, if someone is brave enough to reach out and give it a chance. Our happiest times can lie beyond our worst devastations. And I needed to know that.

I’m not sure why I wrote this. It’s not like anyone will see it, because I’m only publishing it here. I don’t think I want anyone to see it. Most won’t understand. I don’t blame them– how could anyone comprehend this grief without living it? They couldn’t. That’s not how grief works.

But I wanted to say this anyway. Maybe I need to. I rarely talk about this with anyone. I’m good at listening when other people need to talk about their feelings but I’m not good at doing the talking. That takes courage which I don’t always have.

That’s another thing– Dameon showed me how to be honest with my emotions, and also how to be gentle with them. He never yells, never rages or calls names. He just states clearly what he is feeling. I needed that example. I still need it. I bury everything and it rots inside me. But Dameon tries to be forthright, despite the fear I know he must feel because I’ve been there, I’m there, it’s not easy to talk about these things. But he does, and his courage makes me brave, and we can both get those things out in the sun and let them wither or grow if they need to. And we can move on, however long it takes.

Dameon was my guide. Rhen was my hero. Aveyond saved my life. These characters could reach me when no one else could, this story cut through my grief at the death of my mother and reminded me of what she stood for in life. And yeah, I still have a long way to go. Of course I do. But I know where to start now. I am brave enough to start. I can believe in happiness ahead, even after everything.

I guess that’s part of why stories are so important to me. You could save someone. You could save someone like me. You could save someone like you. Let us be gentle with each other. Let’s remember where we started, and believe in where we could go.

Let’s save the world.