I stared at where he had been mere moments before, seeing but not comprehending. The portal was crumbling in on itself, marking the last hope of his escape. He never came through.

I didn't react. I didn't feel. I didn't think.

I sat there, staring at the spot that Thomas had been.

"Alexander," murmured a soft voice, and I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I shrugged it off immediately. It wasn't Thomas. I didn't want it.

"He's okay," I breathed. "He's going to be okay. He's got out of worse stuff than this before," I said, forcing down the urge to fall apart right there. I rose to my feet and looked around. I had been expecting the familiar comforts of the castle, or maybe Avionerra.

But I didn't recognize anything at all about this place.

"Where are we?" I asked, searching for anything that could give me an answer, but there was nothing there.

"Alexander," said Eliza, stepping forward and setting her hand on my shoulder once more, and as much as I wanted to flinch away from her unwelcoming touch, I forced myself to stay still. "Why don't you rest for a moment?"

"Rest? We can't rest. Thomas is waiting for us. We have to find him."

"Alexander," she said my name again, and it sounded like she was inches away from tears. "Thomas isn't coming."

"It's the shock," Hercules murmured, more subdued than I had ever seen him before, though I couldn't figure out why. "It's gotten to him."

"Don't you guys see? This is all part of his plan! Thomas isn't stupid. He wouldn't charge into battle like that, and he would never surrender that way either. He's waiting for us at the end of this path," I said, nodding to the path that stretched through the awaiting forest. "And we just have to find him."

Angelica and Aaron exchanged a solemn glance, while Philip hugged his body and kept his head lowered. Lafayette was very visibly trembling, and when Hercules stepped over to him, I expected him to turn away, ignore him. But instead, he fell against Hercules's body, and Hercules didn't hesitate in holding him. Washington was comforting a crying James, and Eliza stood close to me.

Peggy inspected the closest tree, her fingers resting gently on the wood that was tinted blue. "I know where we are," she said, taking a leaf from the branch above her head.

"You do?" Washington asked so calmly it infuriated me. He had no right to be this calm. "And?"

"Well, when Thomas... when the King stabbed him," she said, glancing over at me briefly. "All of his power consumed him at once. It took control. He was trying to open up a portal to the castle, but I think—"

The words had barely left her mouth before I cried out in surprise, sprinting forward. "Thomas!"

He was standing at the edge of the forest, staring down at himself as if he couldn't quite believe he was there. Dressed in the same clothing he wore during our time in Avionerra, he grasped his bare arms; the tendrils of silk fluttering behind him in the sudden breeze. His head shot up as the name echoed through the woods, and it took him a second to hold out his hands and protest, "Alexander, stop!"

But I ignored him. "God, you had me so worried, you moron. I thought I was going to—"

I should have fallen into his arms, letting him hold me as I told him exactly what was wrong with him. I should have felt his warmth pulsing through me, the rise and fall of his chest, hell, I wouldn't have minded the sticky crimson blood that should have been staining the front of his shirt.

Instead, I fell right through him. As if he weren't there.

I landed on my knees behind him. I hadn't felt anything at all, not even the slightest shimmer of another person's touch. I looked behind me, trying to make sense of it, only to see his back facing me. And though it was faint and hardly noticeable from far away, I could see that the outline of his body wasn't solid, that it was wavering slightly.

Like he was a ghost.

"Thomas?" I murmured, my voice catching in my throat.

"I'm sorry, Alexander." He hugged himself, and I sat in envy as I watched him do the one thing I wished I could do more than anything else in that moment. "Come on. Let's get you back to the castle."

James was besides Thomas the next moment, reaching out to touch his arm. Where skin should have met skin, his hand passed right through. I could barely hear the word he whimpered as he recoiled away from Thomas, but the single syllable was unmistakable.

Thomas watched him for a moment before turning and leading the way down the sullen path. He clutched his body tightly, like a broken glass bird trying to keep itself together.

"Thomas, what's happening?" Philip demanded, but the boy was left unanswered no matter how much he begged. It seemed like Thomas had suddenly gone deaf, refusing to answer or even acknowledge the walls of questions and demands and pleas we built up around him.

The trees towered threateningly, blocking out any hints of the dark gray that had taken over what should have been blue. Tendrils of mist pooled from the forest surrounding us, waiting maliciously for somebody to make a mistake, to let their guard down. There was only one noise echoing through the forest: the sound of our footsteps landing against the cobblestone path. Thomas made no sound at all as he walked yards ahead of us, only furthering the terrifying comparison of him to a ghost.

Without warning, he suddenly stopped in the middle of the path and turned to face us. "We're here," he said.

"Thomas?" I murmured, reaching forward. He looked at my hand as if it was some foreign object he didn't recognize. "Thomas, please. What's going on?"

"This isn't Thomas," Peggy said, stepping forward to stand beside him.

"What do you mean?" I demanded, spinning on her. My words bounced back through the gloom, and only then did their full desperation and anger reach me. "What in Divinity's god damn name does that mean? And if this isn't him, then where is my Thomas?"

"Dead," the ghost-Thomas uttered.

The word hit me hard. I tried to resist it, but there was only so much I could do. Eliza stepped closer to me, reaching over and touching my arm lightly. I fell into her, not yet crying, but unable to stand.

"When somebody creates a new world, a part of their soul breaks off into it. That's what Maria is, at least that's what I'm pretty sure she is."

"You mean that..." Washington trailed off, looking around. I knew what he was thinking. This place didn't seem like something Thomas would create. It was dark, for one. And cold. Thomas wasn't dark or cold. Thomas was starlight, Thomas was warmth, and Thomas was hope.

"Yes. I think that the Tenebrie inside of him took control, and he released all of his energy into the spells he already had up. A portal became a brand new world."

"And it's an unstable one," the ghost-Thomas said, snapping his fingers. A portal appeared in the middle of the path, bright in the gloom. "You all have to leave as soon as possible."

I didn't know much. When it comes down to it, I really am a stranger here. I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't know if what I have managed to accomplish has helped or completely destroyed everything they've worked so hard to accomplish. I don't know much about magic, about the strange world that is Perriterra, about anything, really. But I'm certain about one thing.

"I'm not leaving you."

Ghost-Thomas had been expecting this answer. It was clear in the way he smiled at me, and I swore that I could see the glimmer of tears. "Alexander, please do this for me."

"No! I'm not leaving!"

Ghost-Thomas stepped closer to me, brushing past Peggy, and moved his fingers underneath my chin. I didn't feel his touch like I should have, but I raised my head just the same. "You can't make me go," I hissed in defiance, because anger was the last thing keeping me away from the tears already starting to build.

They say that no one person should be able to make entire worlds fall apart for you. They say that you should be smiling no matter what, even while staring up at the face of somebody you know you'll never see again. They say that people are unimportant, temporary, and that you should accept what's coming gracefully and move on. Because it isn't the end of the world. Because there's still plenty left.

They want you to forget. Why? Does it make it easier? Does it somehow lessen the blow to disregard the one person who brought you sunshine during a thunderstorm? Is it healthier for the mind?

Regardless, these people are dead wrong.

I caved. Warm tears pooled down my face, their trails sticking to my cheeks. "Please," I begged him, even though I already knew there was no point. He couldn't come with us. He wasn't real. The real Thomas was already gone. "Please don't go."

Ghost-Thomas's smile didn't waver, even as he opened his mouth. It took me a second to recognize the melody through his hoarse voice, but it didn't do anything besides make things that much worse.

"Somewhere beyond the sea.
Somewhere, waiting for me.
My lover stands on golden sands,
And watches the ships that go sailing."

Even as he stepped away from me, I reached out to grab him, but my hand slid right through his body. "Promise me you'll think about me?"

"Thomas!"

"Maybe you'll come to visit this place once or twice?"

"Thomas!"

He stopped, his mouth falling open. I knew what three words lingered on his tongue. I knew what he wanted to say. I knew how he felt, and I knew I couldn't let it go. But nothing left his mouth.

Because one moment he was there, and the next, a breeze shuddered past, and he was gone. The only thing left of him were feathers, carried by the wind.

I fell, sobbing into my hands.

~•~

The castle was different. Emptier. Darker. The cold seeped in hard, and no amount of hugging my shoulders could undo the spell. I stared at the wall vacantly, trying to find my bearings.

For once, everyone else was silent. The food sitting on the table went untouched; it felt wrong to eat so soon. I wasn't the only one who had been crying, but just like everyone else, I was forcing myself to only let the tears show in private.

Right now, all I wanted to do was go upstairs and sleep. Sleep the rest of the day away and forget. Maybe when I wake up, this will have all turned out to be some horrible dream, and Thomas will be laying right besides me. Or at the very least, maybe this stupid fucking headache will go away.

I was about to rise from the table when a streak of gray soared through the room. My head shot up as my hand instinctively reached for a sword, but I relaxed as I recognized the shape of Belletra land before me.

"Hey, girl," I said, breaking the silence. My voice was pathetic even to me. "Is everything alright?"

Belletra hopped closer to me, pushing her head up against my hand. I ran my fingers over the top of her head. She chirped something in response, something that made James look up in surprise.

"You have what?" he asked, the first time he had spoken all morning.

Belletra chirped again, backing away from me and taking to the sky. I watched her leave in a rush of feathers. Momentarily, I considered asking James what was wrong, then pushed the stupid thought away. What wasn't wrong?

It wasn't long before the bird returned, this time flanked by a dozen or so others. They landed on the table, something rolled up in their talons. I accepted the items from Belletra slowly; I think she was the only one to have multiple. My fingers shaking, I unrolled the piece of paper that was on top and without reading the top half, let my eyes drift immediately to the name signed on the bottom of the page. I recognized the handwriting straight away, with its neat, curved slant.

But it was the name that induced the large breath of air I took, readying myself for whatever torture I was about to put myself through.

I read the first letter.

It was long, but it wasn't long enough. There was so much to unpack, and I clung to every word because they were quite possibly the last things I'd ever have of his. I read it once, and I read it again. By the end there was no point in trying to deny my feelings, trying to deny the hurt and anger and confusion and sorrow, so I let myself cry.

The second letter was much shorter, but just as impactful all the same. It was the third that got to me, the third I didn't understand. It had a sketch folded up with it, depicting a vial of some sort of liquid. I laughed at first, or at least tried to, thinking about how Thomas wasn't much of an artist, but any humor disappeared when I read the letter.

I had no idea what be was trying to say. Something about my memories? Did the King have them? But how? Where? And what did he mean when he mentioned a deal?

"James," Aaron said softly, snapping me out of my thoughts and cutting tersely through the silence.

James stood up from the table and teleported away. He was gone in seconds, and his head was lowered in shame, but there was no mistaking the obvious grief written clear on his face. Aaron followed him without a word, disappearing as if he had never been there at all.

I glanced around at the others, who looked no better than I felt. I don't think I've ever seen any of them so emotional before, except for maybe the day I returned or whatever we want to call it. God, just thinking about that made me sick.

Sorry, Divinity.

This has to be the cruelest, most horrible trick She's ever played on us.

I rose from the table, handling the letters with care, and slipped away as silently as possible. Nobody stopped me. I focused on the sound of my footsteps as I walked through the hallway and to his room, taking solace in the fact that it wasn't just silence. I don't know what I would do if it was just silence.

I stood in the doorway of Thomas's room, like I was waiting for permission to enter. Then I remembered nobody would be giving me that permission, and I slipped inside and fell down on his bed. I grabbed the nearest pillow and buried my face in it. Divinity, it still smelled like him.

A knock on the already open door jogged me from my tears and my self-pity. "I don't want your condolences," I snapped, already knowing who it was. I just needed time alone. And what good did condolences do? They didn't bring Thomas back. They didn't lessen the pain of his death. They didn't even distract me from the problem. All they did was make things worse, remind me that he was gone forever.

"Actually," said a voice that wasn't Eliza's at all. I spun, wiping away my tears to face him. "I was hoping if I could have yours."

I smiled as best I could at him and patted the spot on the bed next to me. "Of course. Come sit."

Philip crossed the room and sat down next to me. A second passed, and he rested his head on my shoulder. "Is it bad that I already miss him?" he whispered after a second.

"I don't know. I don't think so."

Philip nodded, and I turned so I could wrap my arms around him. "Why does everyone I love leave?"

"Philip—"

"My parents didn't want me. John died before I barely knew him. And Thomas?" He laughed, but it was a humorless, dry laugh. "You know, when I was a lot younger, Thomas would let me come in here whenever I had nightmares. He'd tell me a story and let me sleep in his bed. What I wouldn't give to have another one of those nights." He paused. "I'm so sorry. That's nothing compared to what you have to go through."

"It's okay, Philip. It's okay to be upset. Please, keep talking."

"What's going to happen now?"

"We have to fight. We aren't going to let his death be for nothing. We're going to fight, and we're going to win. And we're going to remember his name."