"Teslas, are you there?" Henry called at the entrance to his workshop.

"If you come to check on your dagger, I am nearly done," the nibbler replied, and Henry voiced a quiet sigh, then stopped himself from kneading his hands before he stepped inside.

But today, he was not here for the dagger—which Teslas still hadn't finished, despite the fact that two entire weeks had passed since he had brought him the materials to reinforce it. Today . . . he had to talk to Teslas because of his curious talent for logically sorting out emotional issues; maybe he could shed some light on why it had distressed Henry so much when Thanatos had announced that he intended to leave the colony tomorrow . . . alone.

I have things to do, was all he'd said. It's my business and my decision what I do, and what you do is yours. Besides, you have your thing with Teslas—I don't.

Henry hadn't been able to argue with the truth. He was right. They had established that they weren't bonds; they hadn't any obligations toward each other. And yet the idea of separating now distressed him more than he had or would ever let on. Henry had no idea why; maybe the fact that he couldn't logically explain the odd emotion was the worst part.

Henry's mind flew back to the last two weeks since the citadel incident. Since then, instead of letting him work for Teslas, Lovelace had entrusted Henry and Thanatos with the responsibility of leading trade runs across the entire Underland.

They had explored more of the jungle, visited the other nibbler colony at the Fount, flown over parts of the waterway, and briefly scouted the Labyrinth—the part of the rats' land that lay further south. They had also crossed the Vineyard of Eyes numerous times, to the point where it had even become slightly less dreadful. They had done so much . . . but they hadn't done everything yet. And now they never would because Thanatos hadn't offered to take him along.

Henry stopped in his tracks. Was that what really bothered him so much? That the flier hadn't considered Henry may want to leave with him? But . . . did he even want to leave?

Once, Henry had thought of the colony as a paradise among hellish jungle, but . . . As pleasant and secure as life at the colony was, the more he thought about it, the more he began feeling like it was beginning to suffocate him. It was a little like back in Regalia, Henry thought. Comparably carefree and safe, but the price for it were duties and expectations.

Throughout the last two weeks, Henry had sometimes thought he missed working for Teslas. Now he thought he had missed the lack of obligations entirely. Was that what bothered Thanatos so much?

As much-needed a break their time here had been, Henry felt a sudden craving for novelty. The thought occurred to him that he might regret his hunger for adventure once he was in the thick of it, as he had last time, but he ignored it. An incredible restlessness gripped him all of a sudden. He understood why Thanatos wanted to leave very well. The part he didn't understand was why he was leaving Henry behind.

If he had done something wrong, he would have told him . . . wouldn't he? Thanatos never shied away from speaking his mind. It was one of Henry's favorite things about him; he told the hard truths to his face as opposed to whispering behind his back. It was infuriating sometimes, but also incredibly convenient.

And . . . they were friends, no? Good friends, so Henry had assumed. Had that been just him?

"I actually wanted to talk to you about something." Henry made his way past the loaded shelves toward the table, where he found his propped-up rat tooth dagger instead of Teslas. "But if you already bring it up, why is this dagger project taking so long?"

Henry knew he was stalling, but it dawned on him that he had no idea how to even put his confused feelings into words.

Teslas appeared between two large shelves. "I was distracted with things, okay? We can't do everything all at once. What do I tell you?"

"To focus on one thing at a time. It will get done faster that way, and then you can move on."

"Precisely. And besides, you want to use the thing as a weapon, right?"

Henry nodded.

"In that case, bones aren't enough." Teslas searched through some of the loose scrolls scattered on his table and held one up. "I have conducted a few pressure experiments and concluded that we'll need a metal frame."

He climbed over his table and walked over to the forge. "I needed to make some custom molds too, but I am done now. All that's left is to make the thing. I promise you'll have your dagger today."

Henry's gaze darted from the scroll over to Teslas with a surge of anticipation. "Really?"

"Yes . . . Although it would have taken much less time if Lovelace had let you help me instead of sending you away all the time," Teslas added sourly.

"Nothing I can do about that," Henry shrugged.

"I know, I know—that's right, metal. Where did I put my spare metal?" Teslas mumbled absentmindedly as he wandered off in search of it.

Staring after him, Henry realized he was overthinking the entire Thanatos issue. He frowned; he never overthought. If anything, he acted without thinking too often, or so he had been told. He fumbled with the clasp of one of his pockets when his words sank in properly: Teslas needed metal.

Ever since he had acquired enough materials from the crawlers at the citadel and other instances during his and Thanatos' trade missions, he had finally swapped out and considerably expanded on his—formerly non-existent—wardrobe. In particular, he had actually made himself a coat; it was warm and long, reaching down to his knees, with a hood and a fur collar. Due to a beginner mistake while tailoring, it was also sleeveless, but he had made up for that with fitting gauntlets.

In the aftermath of the battle against the cutters, Henry had declared sandals unfit for the life of an outcast due to their lack of protection. Instead, he and Teslas had made a pair of robust leather boots wrapped in a layer of thick fur. Now a cutter try and penetrate that, he thought delightedly.

In the last moment, he had remembered wishing for something that would help him tread more lightly. Following Teslas' suggestion, Henry had equipped the boots with pieces of fur that could be unfolded to cover the soles to reduce the sound he made when walking.

Henry was beyond happy with his new attire, but acquiring it had also meant reshuffling all the items he owned, and this had led to a few discoveries he would have rather not made. But if he was going to use this thing for anything, Henry thought it should be this.

"Teslas, I have metal for you."

"Where would you get metal?" the nibbler halted in front of him, holding an iron ingot.

Henry took a deep breath. "I . . . well, this metal is special." With fingers that he couldn't keep from trembling, he unfastened the clasp on a new pouch fastened around his thigh and pulled out the item it contained. He swallowed and presented Teslas with an intricately ornate ring of gold.

The nibbler's eyes widened at the sight. "Is that . . . your—?"

"—crown? Yes. Or, it used to be."

"But you can't give that to me!"

"Why not?" Henry shrugged. "It's not like there's anything else I could use it for anymore." He clenched his jaw. "I can't wear it anymore, so it might as well serve a new purpose. A practical one, for a change."

Henry stared at Teslas, and, noticing the curiosity in his eyes, he made a decision. He could almost hear Thanatos saying he was being impulsive again, but that didn't stop him from placing the crown down on the table and taking a deep breath; his eyes were on the tips of his new boots. "This was the crown that once belonged to Prince Henry of Regalia—before he committed treason by conspiring with King Gorger to create an alliance with the gnawers."

The following silence was like a dormant volcano, moments before a destructive eruption. Henry swallowed. He considered stopping, but wasn't it too late for that now?

"He had thought he could distinguish himself if he ended the pointless conflict between their species, yet he hadn't thought twice about whom he was allying himself with." The words burned on his tongue, but there would be nothing more pitiable than to recount this tale in any manner other than with complete truthfulness.

"He . . . wasn't a villain for villainy's sake," Henry said, feeling an unexpected surge of pride. "He was a foolish teenage boy who thought he could regain the feeling of safety he had lost when his parents died by allying himself with his fear. He misplaced his trust and his priorities, and so he paid for it when he was dragged off a cliff by his supposed ally, Gorger."

Henry finally looked up at Teslas. "That was the day Prince Henry of Regalia died. And the dead do not need crowns."

As soon as his words abated, they were once again replaced with a grave silence. Teslas stared at him with widened eyes before slowly turning to face the crown on the table. "It . . . makes sense now," he said, "why you can never go back, why you wished for me to not disclose your identity . . ." He hesitated, taking a deep breath. "You are a traitor."

Henry bit his lip; the word still stung even though he should have long accepted what he was.

"I . . . Honestly, I was afraid it was something like this, but . . ."

Suddenly, a wave of fear overcame Henry about whether it may have been a mistake to trust Teslas so unconditionally. Sure, he knew him well now, but what if this changed his view of him for good? Or—what if he decided it would be the right thing to do to go and tell the humans where he was now?

"Will you . . . what will you do with this information?"

Teslas shook his head. "You want to know if this . . . changes anything?"

When Henry nodded, the nibbler gave a sad smile. "I admit it . . . is hard to believe you would do something like this, but . . . you made a decision—in the past. Evidently, a bad one, but . . ." He dragged a claw across his table in search of words. "We should punish only those who cannot learn otherwise. And that's not something you need anymore. My condemnation won't save anyone who died or fix anything that broke." He looked up at him. "And also, I refuse to change my view of you, which I have established through experience over the course of months, simply because of this additional piece of information. You know why?"

Henry shook his head.

"Because I know you. And I know you are not a bad person, though you do come across that way sometimes. I cannot judge without seeing the full picture. And nobody sees that, Henry, except for yourself."

There was a moment of unbroken silence, then a rush of relief flooded Henry when he processed his words; he remembered that Thanatos had said something comparable at the time. Henry had been judged by people who hadn't seen the full picture—part because they had no means, and part because he hadn't let them—all his life. It was . . . nice to not be judged for once.

"I wish everyone was more like you sometimes."

Teslas laughed. "Oh yes, you would definitely want to live in a world full of eccentric hermits who do nothing but sit in their lab all day."

Henry laughed alongside him. It was just like Teslas to defuse a tense situation with humor—one of his best qualities, so he thought.

Eventually, he glanced back at the crown. "So, will you take it? I can no longer stand the sight of it, honestly. And, at least, it can serve a purpose again this way. It's solid gold—it will make for a nice frame."

Teslas slowly nodded. "A dagger from the tooth of the gnawer king with a frame of gold from the crown of a human prince. This is going to be an extraordinary weapon." He inspected the crown. "Well, there is the fact that gold is not particularly hard. Maybe I can make it into an alloy . . ."

He wasn't talking to Henry anymore; he was absorbed entirely by the item. When he was like this, Henry could have performed a series of backflips right in front of him, and he wouldn't notice.

He turned to leave, both relieved and brimming with suppressed anxiety. A part of him relished the excuse to procrastinate bringing up Thanatos, but . . . deep down, he also knew the issue wouldn't just magically go away. It never did.

***

As promised, Teslas found Henry later that day. After he had given him the crown, he had quickly lost the battle against his conflicted emotions regarding Thanatos and, under the guise of practice, had taken his sword outside to the lake to at least beat the air with it.

Most of his movement was instinctive, with little poise or control, but immensely satisfying. So were the distant chirruping of the jungle and the rush of physical exertion that served no purpose beyond exhausting his energies so that he couldn't spend them on overthinking.

Henry's sword cut the air so that the tip nearly hit the floor; he wanted to scream. 'Torn' didn't do the way he felt pulled apart justice. He wasn't ready to admit that he wanted his alliance with Thanatos to become permanent, but he wasn't ready to let him go either. And he had no words to convey his thoughts coherently to anyone, least of all the flier.

Teslas watched him quietly for a few moments. "It is done," he said eventually.

Henry swung his sword upward and sliced horizontally; the tip missed Teslas' ear by a mere inch. The nibbler shrieked. "Hey, I trust you, but—!"

Henry blew out a frustrated breath and dropped his sword on the ground. "Sorry . . ."

"Are you okay?" Teslas at last noticed his mood. "You should be excited! I have—!"

"—Thanatos is leaving. Tomorrow. Without me," Henry blurted out. There was a moment of perplexed silence before he carried on: "That's why I initially came to see you; I meant to . . . oh, I don't know, talk . . . ask . . ." He didn't finish the sentence; he didn't know how.

". . . Oh."

"But actually, never mind." Henry crossed his arms. "None of this is your problem." All the times he'd complained to him about more or less minor inconveniences flashed before him, and he suddenly felt shame. "You're not my personal agony uncle. I know what you'll say—that I must deal with my problems by facing them head-on. But I cannot. Not when it is not even a real problem. Because it isn't . . . it shouldn't be, but—"

He broke off again, and Teslas let out a quiet laugh, then sat on one of the rocks bordering the beach. "I do not mind being an agony uncle," he said with a smile. "But you are right. If there is something you wish to say to him, he is the one you should be saying it to."

"Right. Except I already did that. I asked him why he wanted to leave." Henry sat beside him. "And all he said was, "I have things to do." And I have no right to tell him to stay . . . or to take me with him. Or a legitimate reason to even care."

"Is that what he said? That you have no reason to care?"

Henry nodded. "And he is right; I do not. The "no obligations" clause is part of our alliance. But for some reason—"

"—you do care."

Henry groaned, and Teslas laughed genuinely this time. "You two are . . ." He shook his head. "I have never seen two so unwilling to just admit they care for each other." Before Henry could protest, he continued: "This may not have been part of your alliance, but things don't always go as planned. And even if it may not seem that way, I am nigh certain that he needs you as much as you need him . . . if not more."

"Oh, certainly." It was Henry's turn to snort. "We became allies at my request. Because I—" he swallowed, "—had decided that an alliance such as this increased my own chances of survival. But that does not apply for as long as I am here. And he . . ." Henry shook his head. "Whatever would someone who has survived alone for years—decades? However long he has? need me for?"

"What would he—?" Teslas laughed. "Have you really not caught onto that? That he enjoys it," said the nibbler in response to Henry's frown. "I am certain he would rather die than admit it, but he does."

"Enjoys what?"

"Taking care of someone."

For some reason, Teslas' words hit like a punch in the face. Even Henry had caught onto the fact that Thanatos had a soft spot for children in particular, but . . . "I'm not a child," whined Henry. "I do not need to be taken care of."

Teslas laughed. "Does he not protect you? Teach you? Smack you when you do foolish things?"

Henry glared at him. "I told you that I do not need—"

"And I told you that he enjoys doing it anyway."

Henry's mouth snapped shut. He recalled the day Thanatos had found out about his true age and, for the first time, wondered if anything had changed in the way he behaved toward Henry that day.

"He has lived in exile for six . . . no, seven years if my memory does not fail me," said Teslas. "So, he was not particularly picky about your actual age, or," the nibbler chuckled, "how easy caring for you would be."

"Hey! It's not like I asked him to—"

"You wanted protection." Teslas cut him off. "And he wanted to care for someone. So, your alliance became mutual. But . . ." The nibbler sighed. "As you said, your need for protection is obsolete here, while his need for someone to care for persists. That is why I said he likely needs you more than you him."

Henry said nothing for a while. Seven years, he thought. It was hard to imagine being out here alone for so long. Although it did explain why Thanatos had stuck with him. Henry bit his lip until he could barely stand the pain. Teslas was right; if he had been alone for that long, he had to be lonely enough to settle for quite literally anyone—even Henry.

"Oh, how the world must hate him," Henry said sullenly. "He wanted a companion and instead got me."

"That is not true," Teslas hissed. "I mean . . . you are a brat sometimes, but I don't think he minds too much. On the contrary . . . I believe he can consider himself lucky that he stumbled upon a companion who drove him into action again. He mentioned that he had not been up to much since shortly after he went into exile."

Thanatos' apathy from their first month as allies flashed in Henry's mind, and he may have told Teslas about it, hadn't another part of the nibbler's speech caught his attention. "Did you just say . . . went into exile?"

Nobody "went into" exile, Henry thought. It was a form of death sentence. And if one wanted to die . . . there were quicker and cleaner means to achieve that.

"So, he didn't even tell you that much." Teslas shook his head. "I only know of it because Lovelace keeps me informed. I assume you have heard of the incident at the Garden of the Hesperides."

Henry nodded. Of course he had. Everyone old enough to have memories of it had. He had just turned six—old enough.

"Well, I'm unsure what exactly happened, and even if, it wouldn't be my story to tell," said Teslas. "All I know is that after what happened in the garden, Thanatos moved to Regalia from the land of the fliers. And around three years later, he vanished entirely. I had already left Regalia, but the news had reached us even here, from our colony at the Fount. They asked us to keep an eye out for him." Teslas shook his head. "But nobody found him. Everyone assumed he had died, but he lives. I'm inclined to believe this would not surprise most. He has always been . . . resilient."

"I know very well," Henry said. "So he was not cast out? Who . . . Why would anyone do that?" he asked. "Run away on purpose? It verges on suicide."

". . . Precisely."

"There are far easier ways to end one's life."

"But what if it is not about ending one's life?" Teslas replied. "What if it is about punishing oneself?"

Henry swallowed. We are the forgotten, the ones who have lost their privilege to live. And so we pine. The flier's words had, at the time, not only irritated but greatly confused him. He thought about his own struggles to come to terms with being out here and how he would give nearly anything to be able to go back. Henry found it hard to fathom that anyone would give this up willingly.

"Ah," Henry said eventually, not knowing what else to say. He thought he could attempt to process how all of this may be possible now, but he also knew it would cost more energy and effort than he was currently willing to invest.

Teslas looked at him with an odd melancholy. "Be glad you do not understand," he said. "Let us hope that you never find yourself understanding."

"Okay but . . ." Henry looked up at the nibbler. "If he is lonely, and if he finds comfort in . . . caring for me, then why is he leaving?"

"Because he's not any better than you when it comes to handling growing emotional attachments. Arguably even worse, since you at least sought to talk about yours!"

"Mine?"

Teslas sighed, though it sounded suspiciously like a groan. "For goodness sake, Henry, you are here because you fear losing him. How else would you define an emotional attachment?"

"I am emotionally attached to the concept of staying alive," said Henry, and Teslas broke into roaring laughter. "You know, Prince Henry of Regalia may be dead, but—of all things—the ignorant brat in him survived."

"Did not!" Henry shot back, realizing that he sounded exactly like one.

"Oh?" Teslas stopped laughing and eyed him curiously. "Then I do wonder . . . If you're not an ignorant brat and not Prince Henry . . . who are you then?"

Henry crossed his arms, looking away. He hated that, no matter how hard he thought about it, he had no real answer to this question. "I don't know," he mumbled finally. "I suppose . . . the part of him that didn't die. The part of him that . . . survived. And I will continue to do so, no matter what."

Teslas was silent for so long that Henry eventually faced him again and found him smiling. "I concede," he said solemnly.

"Great," Henry replied. "But what does all of this have to do with Thanatos? Can he not just find someone else to emotionally attach himself to?"

Teslas broke into laughter again. "Henry, you are so smart and talented at so many things," he said, still giggling. "But you have the emotional sensitivity of a rock."

Henry didn't reply; he death glared at Teslas, but he had no counter-argument for this claim. "Let me guess—that is not how an . . . emotional attachment works?"

"And there is your functioning brain," said the nibbler. "That is indeed not how an emotional attachment works—neither his nor yours."

"Mine . . ."

"That, what you are feeling—the reason you came to me—is what that feels like," the nibbler said slowly, as though talking to a small child. "That feeling that you get when you like having someone around and don't want them to leave. When you—"

"Okay, okay! I get it!" Henry hissed and crossed his arms. He didn't say it aloud, but at least to himself, he admitted that Teslas was right. Whatever this odd attachment was, it was there; he couldn't deny that any longer. What he could do was not allow himself to linger on its extent or possible consequences, though.

"Alright—emotional attachment. We're on the same page?"

Henry nodded, and Teslas shook his head. "So, we said that he has it too and that he is taking extreme measures to counteract it. He probably thinks it will go away like this."

"That does not work?"

"No."

Henry blew out a frustrated breath, and Teslas laughed. "Fine," Henry said. "I will file that theory under "having legitimate doubts". And Thanatos . . . would rather go back to his solitary existence than admit he's lonely?" The moment he uttered it, Henry knew the question was futile, considering this was Thanatos.

"Yes!" exclaimed Teslas. "And that's why I say you two are unbelievable! A proud, company-starved hermit who acts tough in fear of being hurt and losing anyone he attaches himself to when all he really wants is someone to care for and an ignorant brat," he ignored Henry's death glare, "with an even larger ego, who does an honestly phenomenal job of acting shallow and entitled but really just wants to earn sincere approval."

Henry crossed his arms and snorted, holding back on scolding him for the excessive call-out. But if he scolded him, he'd have to admit he was right.

"Then what do you expect of me?" he snapped instead.

"This is not about what I expect," Teslas replied. "It's about what you're willing to give. I'm here because you asked for my advice, and that's what I'm giving: I don't have a magical third option for you; you have the choice to admit to him that you care or let him go."

Henry pressed his lips together dejectedly.

"But don't you dare mention it was me who told you all of this about him," Teslas added after a short pause.

Henry nodded. Deep down, he had always known that he couldn't just let Thanatos leave. Maybe he could tell him what he had concluded about staying here earlier and claim he wanted to come along for that reason. At least that made logical sense . . . and it was the truth. Boredom was such a significantly more palatable truth than some odd . . . attachment.

Henry stood, ready to get this over with. Maybe this would be half as bad as he assumed. Maybe all he had to do was stop overthinking it.

"So, now that this is all settled," Teslas spoke behind him, and he froze in his tracks. "Are you going to claim your dagger, or can I keep it for myself?"

***

Henry stared at the weapon presented and barely believed his eyes. The tooth he had cut off the rotting carcass of Gorger on an odd whim had been transformed beyond recognition and still somehow retained the feeling of a tooth.

Teslas had clad the curved bone dagger in a frame of shining gold that stood out against the pale bone, accentuating the point and the edges of its three blades, arranged in a triangular formation for added strength and durability. Layers of silken fabric wrapped around the hilt for comfort and grip.

The dagger hadn't just been made usable; Henry hesitantly stretched his hand out to take it, as if it were a phantom image that would evaporate into thin air the moment he touched it. This was a battle-ready weapon, as robust as any conventional one . . . and nothing short of magnificent.

"Way to prove me wrong when I claimed cutting it off was a waste of time," he mumbled, examining it with widened eyes. "It's incredible!"

"Told you I kept it for a reason," Teslas grinned.

"It'll serve me well." It was the only thing Henry could say and the greatest compliment he could give. For a moment, he became so lost in the sight that it even drowned out his fear of losing Thanatos.

Teslas handed him a fitting sheath. "You know what? This thing is unique; I think it deserves a name."

Henry nodded. He inspected the stunning dagger, then recalled a word from one of the ancient languages Teslas fancied. He gripped the hilt and raised it. "What if I call it . . . Mys?"

Teslas narrowed his eyes. "You want to call it . . . "Rat"? Because it is the tooth of one?"

Henry tossed it between his hands to assess its weight and grip. "Well, sort of. And then there is also the fact that it now belongs to the one the gnawers themselves mocked as the "Prince of Rats"."

". . . A homage to past mistakes and a wordplay on its origin . . . perfect."

Henry nodded, sliding Mys into the sheath, then sticking it into one of his belts. "I know."

***

"I will come with you."

Thanatos, who had been resting in their sleeping cave, looked up. "You . . . what?" It took him a second to process. "Why would you want to—?" He cut himself off and lowered his head again. "Would you like to know why I'm leaving?"

Henry nodded.

"I have some business to attend to," the flier said. "Something I need to take care of, from before we met. Your presence wouldn't serve any purpose."

"Like I care."

Thanatos opened his eyes again. He looked like he wanted to say something but remained silent.

"Will my presence be detrimental?"

Thanatos didn't respond again, and Henry gripped the handle of Mys, finding that it brought him comfort, like with his old dagger that he had lost at the cliff.

"Look," he said in a voice as firm as he could make it. "I could not care less about where you go or what you have to do. But I want out of here too, you know?"

"You—"

"It is suffocating!" Henry made a face. "It may be safe and comfortable, but it is beginning to take away the only things I actually appreciated about exile—the freedom and the lack of duties and expectations. Let's do something new," he said with a crooked grin, the way he had almost every day back in the Dead Land.

The flier looked at him like he knew exactly what Henry was referencing.

"Besides, staying together is still beneficial for both of us," said Henry. "We are as good a team as we have ever been, no? It is inadvisable to split such a team up."

The flier was silent for a while before he, to Henry's surprise, voiced a short laugh. "And . . . after I am done with my business, do you have a plan as to where you want to go?"

Henry faltered, staring at him with wide eyes. Had . . . it really been that easy? Maybe Teslas had been right after all, he thought. Maybe he was—

"Not really," Henry shrugged. "But come on, these things are only any fun if you figure them out as you go."

"Is that . . . so?" Thanatos hesitated, fixating his pensive, amber gaze on him. "You are really willing to come with me? Not even knowing where I am going or what my "business" is? Or if we're ever coming back?"

"By all means." Henry crossed his arms and leaned on the entrance frame. "It is not like I have anywhere I must urgently be at the moment."

***

Henry ensured the sword belt around his upper body was tied, and Mys was secure at the back of his hip. He shouldered his new backpack—the first item Teslas had made for him since becoming his apprentice—and took one last look around the gorgeous lake and the beach, unable to prevent a pang of regret for leaving behind the only place where he had felt somewhat at home since becoming an outcast.

"So, you are actually . . . leaving?" Cevian's voice sounded dejected; she stood there with everyone—Curie, Lovelace, Platonius, and Teslas—to see them off.

"Oh, we shall be back," Henry said, not knowing how truthful that was. But he liked to think that they would.

"You better!" said Teslas, and Henry grinned at the rare sight of the inventor outside his workshop. Without his help, he most certainly wouldn't have been able to pack so efficiently. He had all his new tools, fabrics, clothes, and as much Ignifer and recently finished extinguisher as Teslas had made, together with his personal belongings. There was also the redesigned slingshot they had created together; it used a forked bone frame to fire, making it both more accurate and powerful. Oh, and a torch. Henry finally had a proper torch; it securely stuck out of the top of his backpack.

"Make use of your tools and your knowledge; don't forget them," the nibbler mumbled, and Henry returned his wistful smile.

"Yes, yes," said Henry. "You'll see me again, at least when I run out of Ignifer."

"I will work on it," Teslas promised, tugging at his tool belt. "I will make more, but I will also search for ways to improve it. Mainly regarding the . . . application duration issue."

Henry nodded. "Please remember to keep my identity and name a secret, especially toward the humans, right?"

Lovelace nodded. "If that is what you wish, we will not disclose it."

"Thank you." Henry shouldered his backpack, fastened the front belt, and finally mounted up, looking back at the four nibblers. Then and there, it hit him just how fond he had grown of them all and that he wouldn't see them in a long time.

But he also knew that his mind was made up. Belonging to a community again had been great—much needed in so many ways, even—but it was no long-term solution. Now, it was only him and Thanatos again. What would they do, and where would they go? He didn't know. All he knew was that he was ready for an adventure. Whether he may regret this wish soon or not.

Henry looked down and saw Curie pressing her little nose against Thanatos' face. For some reason, the sight tugged at Henry's heart. "I will make certain that you see him again," he said to Curie. "Us both."

"We'll hold you to that." Lovelace smiled.

"Fly you high!" Teslas cried, and the other nibblers joined in.

Thanatos flung himself into the air, and Henry raised a hand to wave. "Fly you hi-, eh, run like the river . . . wait, which one is it?"

Thanatos laughed as he flew a last circle around the lake and then disappeared into the jungle, toward the Vineyard. "You're unbelievable."

***

"So, where exactly are we going?"

They had left the final green sprouts of the jungle behind a while ago when Henry first spotted the glow of the waterway in the distance. Moments later, Thanatos shot out of the tunnel and soared above open water.

The flier had disclosed that he needed to cross it east to west, as his destination was the Dead Land beyond. It was only a flight of a few hours, and for the first time, Henry asked what exactly the flier's "unfinished business" was.

"I have something to settle with . . . someone I insulted a while ago. Entirely unintentionally, of course."

"Of course."

Thanatos paused, and Henry was certain that he rolled his eyes. "For that, I'm meeting with someone close to the west coast of the waterway. The details are a little . . . complicated. I might explain later."

Henry didn't press him for it. He hadn't lied—he didn't really care that much. Besides, he would see soon enough.

A few silent minutes passed as they flew over the endless-seeming, glowing water. Henry mindlessly stared out to the sea—toward where he pictured Regalia. Somewhere, beyond so much water that not a single flier had yet crossed it in one go, lay his former home.

"Do you miss it? Regalia, I mean."

"Obviously." He had no reason to conceal it. "You know I would give anything to go back."

Thanatos didn't respond, but Henry didn't mind the following silence. Flying like this, enveloped in the smell of the sea, with the wind tugging at his hair, he could almost forget all his worries.

A sudden sensation of overwhelming freedom engulfed him, and his head began to spin, but in a good way. Then and there, Henry knew for certain that he would survive. Anything was possible if exile could feel like this.

Allowing the rush to consume him, Henry smiled out onto the open water. It was then that, for the first time, the thought of Regalia did not fill him with desperate longing. Because, suddenly, he thought he needed no city walls. Not when he had this freedom. It almost felt like a kind of security, but different from the one at the colony, and Henry thought he liked this one better. It seemed to come without the suffocating side effects.

Thanatos disrupted his reverie when he sank and landed on a steep cliff, directly by the coast. His gaze met the foaming waves beneath—it had to be at least sixty feet straight down, but Henry wasn't scared. Not this time.

He mounted down and sat by the cliff, gingerly unpacking the bread he had packed, coupled with a ration of smoked fish and half a dozen sweetpeaches. "The one you are meeting is not here yet?"

"No," said Thanatos. "But dinner is a good idea. Maybe they will arrive while we eat."

They ate in comfortable silence, but when they were done and Henry raised his gaze from the backpack he had just finished packing, he froze in horrified shock.

Henry didn't recall jumping to his feet. He barely made out the shadowy silhouettes of a dozen spinners descending from the dark ceiling . . . and then they were surrounded. Not even Thanatos had heard them coming, Henry thought. Had they both become so accustomed to safety that they had grown careless?

The spinners encircled and webbed Thanatos up within seconds, then he was jerked back into the darkness. An icy thorn pierced Henry's heart as his brain, at last, caught up with what was going on.

As soon as the flier was out of sight, the spinners turned to Henry. He stood there, staring desperately in the direction where Thanatos had disappeared, and then did the only thing he could: he turned, shouldered his backpack, and leaped into the wet, black depths of the waterway.