Edward Prewitt.

Her fiancé's name was Edward Prewitt.

Her new name would be Everly Grace Prewitt.

She tried the name out on her tongue. Over and over, she repeated it silently to herself as she packed her bags. As she carefully folded her clothes, she went over what little she knew about Edward in her head. As she arranged her beauty products into plastic containers, she wondered if he would treat their children better than Gaston treated his. As she shoved her entire life into a carry-on bag, she wondered how on earth she could fall in love with a man picked out for her by her parents.

She had a lot of her own worries. But beneath it all was an underlying current of concern for Gideon.

After she'd reached home that day — the day she'd told him, the day that his love for her was lost to his pain — she'd found Gideon shut up in his room, the door locked, not coming out for food, not coming out for anything unless Gaston Northwest himself came to the door and demanded it.

Grace couldn't handle it, couldn't handle his sudden coldness to her, and she took it out on her poor mother. When Gaston wasn't anywhere near, she cornered her mother in abandoned rooms and demanded that she treat Gideon better than she had in the past. "I'm the closest thing a mother he's ever had," Grace told Geneva, "and now that I'm leaving, you had better step it up." Her words left Geneva crying alone in her bedroom, but at the time she didn't care. Maybe she couldn't fix her relationship with Gideon before she left, but she was willing to trample over every other relationship she had on the chance that his life wouldn't be completely miserable after she was gone.

It wasn't enough to erase her memory of his betrayed expression, however. Nothing would ever be enough.

Gideon had finished bonding the amulet about a week ago, and he'd performed his first memory wiping for the Order, too. Grace wouldn't have known at all if she hadn't come across her brother, running from the Order entrance as if a dragon were chasing him.

"I broke her," he told Grace in a panic. "I broke her I broke her I broke her she's broken—"

"Wait," Grace had called after him. "Wait, Gideon, what happened?"

But he had already run past her to his room, and when she followed him, he slammed the door in her face, locking it audibly. She could hear him crying through the door, but he wouldn't let her in to comfort him.

Now, a week after the memory wiping incident and a few weeks after the clones, she was about to leave. She was about to move, about to become a Prewitt, about to join a new family, and everything here — everything in this family — was still so wrong.

She'd imagined so many times that she would fix everything. That she would get this family the help it needed to be healed. And now, now she'd been used up by the Order and spit back out by her parents. She hadn't helped anything.

Blind Lincoln had listened to Grace cry and scream and whimper, listening with a quiet understanding, even though he'd never been married off to another family when his little brother still needed help. Grace still felt like he understood, somehow.

But even catharsis with Lee was but a cauterizing iron when Grace was so close to leaving him forever.

The day finally came. Grace had everything packed up — she'd already sent most of it ahead — and she was about to walk out the door for the last time. She would stay in a hotel room tonight; the wedding was tomorrow; she would go on her honeymoon with Edward tomorrow night. No Northwests would attend the services.

She was terrified to leave without talking to Gideon one last time. She rushed to his room, leaving her carry-on by the front door. "Gideon," she called. "Charlie, please, I need to talk to you, I need to see you—"

The door opened.

She hadn't gotten a proper look at Gideon since that day in the cave. He'd changed drastically in the past month. His hair was almost entirely white, and he wore the new contacts Gaston had bought for him. He seemed taller. His skin was entirely covered, too, save for his neck and head. While this had been his habit in the past as well, it seemed. . . more businesslike than before. More mature.

"Char," Grace breathed, "what happened?"

He seemed to think that she was referring to his hair, because his hand went up to his head. "It's the amulet," he said. "It's changing it to white. Father says it's happened in the past, but not very often."

She was referring to his hair, but she was also referring to. . . everything.

"You're leaving," Gideon said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes," Grace whispered.

"Now?"

"Right now."

Gideon stepped forward and gave his older sister a hug.

She bent down, clung to her little brother, buried her face in his white hair. She was going to miss him so much.

They hugged in silence for a long time. Then Gideon pulled back.

"You're dead," he said.

Grace frowned in alarm. "What?"

"I need to think you're dead," he said. "Today, you die. Tomorrow, and every day after that, you're dead. That way. . ." He closed his eyes. "That way, I can still love you."

Grace stared at him. It made such perverse sense that she couldn't respond.

"But," she finally said, "I'll try to help you. I'll try to come back."

"Don't," Gideon said, his tiny voice cracking with emotion. "Don't give me hope. Otherwise, when you fail to keep your promises, I'll resent you. I. . . I won't love you. I have to love you," he whispered.

Grace nodded. "Okay," she said. "Okay, I'm dead. And—" She reached out and lifted Gideon's chin. "—I'll still love you every day from the other side of the grave. Deal?"

"Deal," Gideon whispered.

She gave him one more hug. Then she offered her hand, and the siblings walked together to the front door. When Gideon let go of her hand, her heart broke a little. But she steeled herself. This was it. She was leaving.

She nodded to her family.

"Make me proud," Gaston said.

"It'll be wonderful," Geneva said.

Grace's eyes searched out those of her brother.

"Rest in peace," Gideon said.

Grace smiled at him. "Thank you." Her eyes flicked to Gaston, to Geneva, but mainly they stayed on Gideon.

Grace opened the door.

"Goodbye," she said to her family.

Then she left.

~~~~~

Gideon held a funeral for his sister.

He took a matchbook, a glass container, and a piece of Grace's clothing — a scarf — that he'd smuggled from her room; then he went out to the fairy hollow.

He'd worried that his "theft" of the supplies would be noticed, but then he found that he didn't care. If Gaston was going to beat him for mourning his sister, then Gideon would bear those stripes with pride.

The fairies regarded him warily as Gideon explained what he wanted to do. "There's no fire hazard," he promised. "It'll all stay in this container." He lifted the container, complete with a lid in case the wind was strong. "I just. . . I need a familiar place for this. Please."

The fairies agreed. Gideon entered the large hollow, with pine trees soaring above his head and wind blowing snow around as if it were smoke.

He chose a spot near the center, so the flame wouldn't be near the trees. The fairies all watched from their city as he gently lay the scarf to rest in the container.

"Goodbye, Evi," he said softly. "I hope you enjoy heaven."

Where else would his sister go?

He lit a match, dropped it in the container, sucked in a breath as the scarf caught fire. He breathed in the smoke from the flames — but this time, he wasn't breathing in resentment for his sister. He was breathing in memories, the good and the bad, the pain and the love and the joy.

He watched the scarf burn, inhaling the cold air with its string of smoke.

"I love you," he whispered.

He sat there for a moment, letting himself feel. Then he gathered up his supplies, returned to the Northwest Manor, put them away discreetly, and went on with his life. He never told anyone of his sister's funeral.

His sister was dead. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. But it wasn't her fault that she died.

So he could still love her.

END OF MINISODE ONE