The stray light from the palm of my hand that bounced off of the walls lit my descent down the narrow, dark tunnel. Besides my breathing and the clack of claws against the stone floor, an absolute silence had settled for a nice, long stay. I reached out, my hand brushing against the soft, warm fur of Ira as she walked at my side. My stomach twisted into a knot, and I let my hand fall.

I don't know what she had done, but somehow, she had made Thomas fall. I had known it was her the instant the ripple of energy struck the air, surging at Thomas with all its force.

She would have killed him.

And there was that ugly voice at the back of my mind, whispering the thoughts I wished to share with nobody. Not even myself. I shook the thought away and forced myself to relax in the Venandi's presence, though the growl that had risen into the back of her throat as we got closer did nothing to assuage me of my doubts and fears.

My fingers ached to curl around a dagger.

The tunnel finally opened up, becoming big enough to where I felt like I could breathe again. My heart pounding in my chest, I took a right as I had done at least five times today and hurried down the hallway until I was face to face with the dungeon. I stopped for a moment, lingering outside the other door sitting across the way. I dared a peek inside, then swiftly turned away before I could see those statues, staring back at me with those realistic but dull eyes.

"Alexander?"

"I'm here," I returned, my voice touched by a rising worry. "Everything alright?"

"Where are the others?" Aaron asked, a sudden bright golden flame almost blinding me. I extinguished my own light and stepped closer to him so I could see his face better.

"They're coming. What's wrong?"

"He's—"

"I can speak for myself, thank you very much."

That rough, yet beautiful voice made every cell in my body freeze up all at once. So tired, so hoarse. As though he was finally read to give up. And yet, there was still that cutting edge to it that would wound if you weren't careful enough. But it wasn't that that got to me.

It was the deeper, darker undertone that lined it.

"Yes," Thomas said. "I'm awake. And quite put out, understandably, though." There was a slight amusement that touched his words, but it wasn't the way my Thomas would have said something. It reminded me all too much of the King. A shiver crawled down my back at the thought of him being inside of Thomas's mind, fueling his thoughts and planning his words.

I stepped up to the bars of the cell at the murmured warnings of Aaron, lifting the flames so I could get a better look at his face. His gray eyes caught the light, and though they were hard and filled with anger, an exhaustion I had never really seen before lurked close behind. Cuts and bruises lined his face, and it didn't take a genius to piece together that every movement he made was one done in agony. But he didn't say anything, betraying his pain only by the most subtle of flinches. I drank him in, the smell of freshly fallen rain hitting my nose and making my throat tighten. So many words pooled up, but they couldn't fall out.

There he was. Inches away. And yet, at the same time, the space between us stretched like miles.

"Well?" he asked. "What are you going to do? Kill me?"

"Thomas," Aaron said softly.

"No. I have a right to know, don't I? What are you going to do with me? You obviously cannot keep me alive, you know that, right?" he asked.

And, to answer his question, Ira let out a single bark. It bounced off the tight, compact walls, striking deep into my bones. I bit down on my lip as Thomas lifted his chin to stare at me, eyes burning mine. He stepped away, glancing back at the Venandi at my feet.

"Well," he said. "I see you've found your little beast."

"Leave her alone."

Thomas snorted. "Whatever." He leaned against the iron door, tilting his head almost bird-like. "I don't suppose you have any idea when Washington's getting here?"

"I'm here," Washington said from somewhere behind me, making me jump and spin around. He emerged from the shadows, closely followed by everybody else. Philip made a move to step past him, but Hercules grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back, whispering something about how unsafe it was. Without realizing it, I backed away from Thomas as Washington approached. "Am I talking to Thomas, or the King?"

"Does it matter?" Thomas returned, pressing his hands against the metal bars. The steel bars. I flinched as the steel burned into his bare skin, but to his credit, he managed to keep a firm, almost challenging gaze with the General. "You can say whatever you want. It won't matter once you're dead."

I felt around in my pocket until I grabbed the token I had brought with me. I didn't dare take it out yet, but I clutched it tightly, as though letting go would make it fall out of existence. Besides me, Ira let loose a low, throaty growl, and Thomas's gaze darted to her. Scales speckled his throat, beginning to crawl up the side of his neck and underneath his chin. Claws slowly took shape at the edge of his fingers, but he tucked them away before I could see.

"You're going to kill me." Said as a state of fact, not a question.

"Of course not."

"Then you're a fool," Thomas sneered.

"Peggy?" Washington asked her. Thomas perked up when he said her name.

"I don't know what to do," she said, without an ounce of care. "I can't help him. I'm sorry. Let's just ask him what that bastard did with Angelica and get rid of him."

"Peggy!" I exclaimed, feeling sick.

"Look, whatever the King did messed up Thomas's mind. There's a reason you don't come back from the dead the same. What, you think I've never tried it before? You cannot have life without death, and to try and break that circle would be a foolish, dangerous endeavor that would result with nothing but pain. So even if it was possible to save him, he would never be able to find solace in the living world. But it isn't possible. He's nothing more than a puppet destined to do the King's will."

"Are you so sure about that?" Thomas asked, voice as smooth as silk. He didn't elaborate, though, leaving an unsettling silence in his wake.

"Enough," Washington said, holding up his hand. "There has to be something we can do."

Philip pushed himself forwards. Even though he was a bit taller than me, he looked so small when Thomas fixed him underneath that piercing gaze. I could see the way he trembled even from where I stood. "T-Thomas? Do you remember me?"

"Of course," he returned, tilting his head, as though faced with a question he didn't understand. "How could I forget you? The unwanted child of the only person I ever cared about and his wife."

It took a second for the meaning to sink in, but once it did, Philip froze up. "W-what?"

"Philip," I said softly, reaching out for him, but he pulled himself away from my touch.

"D-did you know?" he asked, rounding on me.

I opened my mouth to speak, fumbled for words, and closed it again. Finally, I managed to force out the one word that made the look in his eyes wither and die. "Yes."

Philip shook his head, as though doing so would convince himself that it wasn't real. "You...I—I trusted you!" And without another word, he was gone, disappearing from the darkness that seemed to grow a little stronger in its grip.

A long pause lingered in his wake. I forced myself to focus on the cracks in the flooring, unable to meet their eyes. Finally, Thomas broke the silence, laughing. "Oh, my apologies. I didn't realize he would take it that personally." I wanted to shoot something back, but my mouth failed me, and I was standing there starstruck by his laughter, just like the others. "Now, if we're quite done here, I—"

In a single motion, I grabbed the pendant waiting for me inside my pocket and flung it into the air, holding it high above my head so Thomas could get a good look at it. The golden star glinted in the light, drawing all attention. The grin slipped from his face, replaced by something harder to read.

"Put that thing down before you hurt yourself," Thomas snapped, eyes drawn on the very center of the star.

The lace was unexpectedly soft between my fingers.

"Alexander—" Peggy started, but I cut her off before she could get so much as a word in.

"If you won't help Thomas, I'll find somebody who can!"

"Alexander! Put it down!"

I held it out, closed my eyes, and called her name. The four syllables echoed off of the chamber walls, bouncing back at me. But as each one faded away, nothing happened. I tried again, enunciating as clearly as I could, but once more, there was no spark of light or energy.

"Are you done?" Thomas asked, face against his hand. Bored.

"It didn't work," I said softly.

"Of course it didn't work. But you didn't need it to." He leaned forwards, his grin making me sick. "She's standing right next to you."

Peggy flinched, as though she had been struck. Hugging her body, she raised her chin and asked, "When did you find out?"

"Well, I had my suspicions at the ceremony. But it wasn't until I saw the other side before I managed to put it together." He sighed, not giving us even a second to think or
process. Without warning, the bars to the dungeon cell melted away, and Thomas stepped forward. "That took long enough." With one hand, he threw the unlocked bracelet that stifled magic at the floor with a clatter. With the other, he produced the scythe, its point impossibly sharp. "Now, this has been very amusing, but I'm afraid I have to go."

"Thomas, you have to listen," I begged, stepping forward.

"Listen? To what?" he snapped, the pooling hatred in his eyes rendering me speechless. "Do you know what it was like, Alexander? To watch what I had to watch? I had every intention of coming back to you, but for what? You forgot me. In a matter of days." He sounded as though it was a struggle to get through those words, his eyes pooling with tears of anger. "I opened myself up to you. You are the only person I've ever had that comfort with." He paused, the tears breaking free from their prison and spilling slowly down his face. "Apparently, that didn't matter to you as much as it did to me. So let me ask you this, do you even care?"

I stumbled. I faltered. I cracked. When I should have had an answer freshly carved, all that turned up was an amalgamation of sounds and desperate attempts to forge words.

As the silence dragged on, Thomas slammed his fist against the stone wall, making me jump with surprise. "I knew it," was all he said, those three words somehow the most devastating thing I had ever heard. He gripped his scythe tighter with one hand, raising the other so that his palm was pointed at me. "Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

I barely had time to get out of the way before a blast of lightning went soaring past my head. A crack of thunder split the air, and I could feel the heat rolling off of where the electricity had just been. Ira was gone, and I had no idea where she went.

As soon as I found my footing, a scythe came down against my head. I managed to stop it just in time with a force field, then teleported so I was behind him.

"Thomas!" I yelled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Washington, face ablaze with panic, step forward, but Thomas spun and raised a hand in his direction, and a barrier must have sprung up between us. Washington slammed his fists against the invisible solid, his mouth moving rapidly, but I couldn't hear a thing. I turned back to Thomas, who was panting for breath. "Thomas," I repeated, calmer. "Let me help you."

"No!" he screamed. Something small and warm landed on my shoulder, making me jump a little. But I didn't have to look to know it was Belletra waiting on my shoulder like a commander waiting for her turn to strike. "Get out of my head!"

"Thomas. You're bleeding," I said, my eyes falling to the patches of black that stained his undershirt, right where his heart was. I swallowed, unwilling to wonder where those wounds had come from. "Just let go, okay? I'm going to help you, I promise." It took everything I had not to let my voice shake. "Let me help you."

I raised my hands. My dagger flew across the floor and ended up at his feet. He glanced down, then back up at me. I was now unarmed. If he attacked me, I'd have no means of striking back. All I could do was hope and pray that somewhere deep inside, my Thomas was still in there, screaming to be let out. "Just let me help you," I repeated, voice breathless.

Thomas threw his body forwards, scythe raised to attack. I managed to stay out of range for most of them, but his last strike left a trail of blood gushing down my arm. Confidence wavering, I tried again. "Thomas, please. I know you're in there."

"Shut up," he hissed, readying a barrage of lightning, but the bolts of electricity did nothing against my shields, when they usually would have overpowered me and sent me flying.

"Thomas," I said. Maybe that's all that was needed. His name, over and over, to help him realize who he really is. Because this is not my Thomas. What else was I supposed to do? "I care about you, okay? I'm sorry." It was pathetic, but I saw the way the tick in his jaw. I was getting through to him, somehow. "Please, come back to us."

Thomas lowered his hand. "I trusted you." I needed you."

I lowered my shields, reaching out for him. "I'm right here."

A pause, then he started forward with his scythe again. He raised it, ready to strike. Then, out of nowhere, Ira melted up from the shadows, standing in front of me, and let out a growl that shook the corridor. Thomas froze, scythe still raised above his head. For a moment, I didn't understand, but I realized that whatever Ira had done had caused Thomas to lose his ability to move.

"Well?" Thomas asked after a moment. "What are you waiting for?"

"Wh-what?"

"Just get this over with, please," he said, his voice breaking in all the right ways to get my hands to start shaking. He lifted his gaze to mine, ready for whatever he thought I was going to do. "Kill me, already."

"I'm not going to hurt you, Thomas," I said. It was a miracle my words didn't fail me when I needed them most.

"Why not?" he demanded, tears of anger and fear facing streaking down the shape of his face. "Why won't you fight back?"

There were thousands of things I could have said. A thousand different ways I could have explained myself. But I didn't need them. Looking at Thomas, three words lingered at the tip of my tongue, the only words I could manage to shape. If they didn't work, I don't know what I'd do. But I had to try.

"I love you."

A ragged breath escaped him, and the spell he was under faded away. His scythe fell, hitting the ground with a dull thud. "No," he said, shaking his head, but the conflicting mess of thoughts battled across his face. "You can't—"

I swallowed, opened my mouth, and sang.

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

Thomas blinked. And then, a soft, whispered, "Lex?" that was just so drastically different from everything that had just happened but completely familiar and amazing all at once.

"It's me," I returned, choked by tears.

Without another word, he fell.

Washington was there, the barrier somehow broken. He caught Thomas and pressed his fingers underneath his jaw where his pulse should have been, and for a long, terrible second, a look of panic crossed his face.

But he sighed and relaxed, nodding his head.

"Is he—?" I asked, fearing what the answer could have been.

"Alive. For now."