Without Moongirl, we walk and walk. The silt turns white, something that is neither sand nor snow. And we track through these forbidden wastes, Kadath. The joy I thought I'd feel isn't there. For most of the time since we left Leng, I haven't felt anything. When Moongirl's sad eyes faded from view, I told myself that's a good thing.

Until we see the spires that mark the end of the journey. Until I can't take it anymore.

Can't think, can't breathe. Suck in one breath, oh no, it hurts. Think I'll throw up. Throat closes. Like when I was in the cafeteria and one of the boys tried to pull up my shirt and everyone laughed. Or when I was on the bus and peed myself in fear of returning home.

Or that morning a week after the bus incident, bathed in red and blue when I was taken out of that home and felt so guilty for telling the truth to the school counselor.

My eyes sting, and I stare. At my hands, fingers, veins. The amulet, burning in my palm, burning into me with its bloody pomegranate-eyes. Mocking me.

But what's worse is when the wheel stops turning and turning and turning. And turning, until it stops. And all I have is this empty, gray blank.

Who am I? I've never felt fully like a girl or boy. It feels like I take some of each, but getting called "girl" or "miss" makes me feel small, like I'm being forced into invisibility. The counselors would say not to think too much about it. Puberty, trauma, a phase, a silly mistake in my head I'd grow out of.

"You must think being a girl means you're weak. We need to work on that," one of the counselors told me, crossing her legs and wearing her stylish black boots. As if me not feeling like I belonged in one place or another meant I thought being a girl was bad or some kind of flaw, but I didn't. I never have. At best, though, I've only felt girl-adjacent. Gender-sideways. But settling for the default was always easier than trying something else.

Yet here I am, at the edge of this unusual and chaotic world. And more than anything, I feel like a quitter. I let Moongirl go. Because she had to submit to the way things are. Like I tried to avoid. Escape in this world of dreams. Full of possibilities. Not enough, I guess. I wanted to be a hero. And it might've been selfish, but I never got to be selfish back home. Do something that I wanted.

But it's all mixed up because, when I pull out the eye amulet, I wonder if this was what I wanted all along. Or if it was just some way to get validation. Maybe both.

The amulet's eyes wink at me, and my stomach clenches. I might throw up. Nothing else to do, I toss the necklace across the plane. It falls flat in the white sand, mocking me.

I have everything I've wanted right in front of me. I'm not there on the bus. Or in the yard, holding a teddy bear with one eye. Or in the stiff police station desk chair. This is nowhere near as bad.

So why am I sad? Maybe I thought I could have everything. Save everyone. Like it took so long for me to be rescued, for anyone to care at all.

Caramel rubs her head against the back of my hand, which is wet with tears.

I hug her. "Thanks, girl." Her fur is soft against my neck, her ear flicking against my chin. And I look beyond us. The cold, silver waste. It never ends. To the left, to the right. Everywhere except in front of us where these tall, pointed onyx spires loom.

We've done it. We've come this far. Like I wanted. So close.

My feet stop, digging into the white sand. I want to cry.

My nose runs, and, embarrassed, I keep rubbing it against my sleeve.

I pace, the wasteland crunching under me. My heart leaps into my throat. I whip around and stare at Pickman. "This isn't right. I need to go back for her."

He says, "I'm afraid if this is what she wants . . . and if the gods might get angry with us . . ."

My scoff is wet. I don't care if the Great Ones like me. Maybe a week ago, a day ago, I would've. So desperate for approval and love. To have someone say that I did the journey right, that I made myself worth something. Such a long way from where I was. "It's not. She said it wasn't, but I just gave up. I was scared."

If I let her go, it'd be easier for both of us, I thought. Easier to let go. Because letting go is always inevitable. Like how, before they reunited, Randolph Carter heard his partner die. Some people grow up expecting tragedy, getting told it's their destiny.

Ever since I felt how scared she was, I wanted to help her. Help someone like I wasn't until Cece came along. A wave of bitterness. I once thought no one would help me, but that wasn't true. Someone did, and she deserves that same chance.

And I didn't want to become a tragedy. Abandoned. Forgotten. Disposable. But if I leave her to her fate, I'm resigning her to that.

And I might fail, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try to help her.

I look at Caramel, her speckled, green, understanding eyes. Moggy, eyes wide and forlorn. Pickman, thoughtful and sympathetic. And then I look back at the looming towers of Kadath. I can't go in the onyx castle and face the Great Ones, whoever lingers there. Not yet.

The gods might punish me, like I haven't been punished enough. But I don't care. Not because I don't care about myself. Because, if I don't act, Moongirl will be hurt. Forced to live a life that she doesn't want.

As Caramel jumps up on my shoulder, I tread across the sand and pick the amulet back up. My feet start moving, one after the other. Backwards, and everyone follows.