Everything feels dead. After days of storms, now the wind won't blow. The clouds stay full but refuse to snow, like they're frozen in the sky. One day blends into the next, their similarity stretching time into an eternity.

Somehow the week still passes too fast.

After the night we have tea, Aster and I don't talk much. I don't know what to say, and he spends most of his time in an empty room he's claimed as his. The few times I try to coax him downstairs, he doesn't even bother opening his door, simply telling me he's busy. When he does make an appearance, he's drawn, face a silent storm. It's like he shut off.

I wish I could open his brain and find all the heavy secrets weighing him down. If I could, I'd give them wings and watch them fly away. His wide, easy smile would replace his pensive brood, and everything would be okay again, easy as that.

But it doesn't matter. He leaves in the morning.

The sun falls tonight like the blade of a guillotine. I watch from the upstairs window, hands pressed against the frame, as the sky flashes blood red and then cuts away, dead and fixed in its finality. The stars appear one by one, hopeless rebels against the ever-expanding darkness. They'll fade and disappear from the heavens one day, and they know it. Still, they wave their shining banners, hoping they can overcome their fate, hoping it's not so, that they can avoid the inevitable. But endings come for everything.

Even stars.

He's in his room right now. I drew the evening watch today, but after dinner, I didn't hear the door shut or his feet creak up the stairs; I never do. All the same, I know he's in his room. He never stays up very late anymore.

I'm sure he probably wants to get good rest, even though, as far as I understand, his journey won't tax him any tomorrow. I imagine he'll have a full day ahead of him, though, attending to whatever it is his country needs him so badly for.

Idyne comes to relieve me, and I close the door behind, wandering down the hall.

I shouldn't bother him. I certainly shouldn't knock on his door and risk waking him up. Besides, what would I say? I've had countless opportunities for meaningful conversation and allowed them all to flit away, too scared to reach out and grab one. Tonight won't be any different.

Tomorrow, he leaves and walks into a war zone. The last war in the High Valleys was centuries and centuries ago, back when our people were all topsiders. All I can imagine of war is storybook depictions. Skies know what's waiting for him.

My fingers rub the shield charm of my necklace. Will he get hurt? Do princes in Morineaux lead their people to the battlefield? Perhaps, there's not a battlefield, though. That word he used—siege—I looked it up. It's different than the scene my mind conjures up of warriors fighting in sweeping valleys, two sides charging toward each other. Either way, there will be fighting, and he could be in the midst of it.

Tomorrow, he leaves. After that—

After that, I never see him again. After that, he's a prince a world away, and I'm a little foreign girl, scrubbing floors to get by. After that, I lose the last person that I've learned to rely on.

After that, I'm alone.

Well, not entirely alone; I'm sure Idyne will come with me, whether I like it or not. I'm scared to do anything else than pretend I do. I'm also developing a sinking feeling Jacin will tag along too. I should be grateful—I'm sure I'll need them, navigating a strange land with no tools but improvisation and intelligence. Even so, dread hangs in my bones.

Tomorrow, Aster leaves, and I'll never see him again. I can't let him slip away without at least saying goodbye. After all, this could be my last chance to ever talk to him. No matter if I'm waking him up, no matter that it won't change anything, I just can't.

I cross the hall and rap on his door.

There's a pause, and I wonder if I should knock again. I don't want him to tell me to go away. But maybe he won't. Maybe he's asleep. Maybe I should say something—

Aster opens the door, tucking away a handkerchief. "Leavi." He seems surprised to see me, like I'm an apparition that showed up instead of the girl who lives just downstairs.

"Aster." More words mean to follow but get stuck in my throat, and we're left staring at each other in the hazy moonlight streaming in from his window. There's something in his eyes, an encrypted message swirling in the depths, but I have no key.

He clears his throat self-consciously. "What do you need?"

"I—" Skies, I don't know how to start. Why didn't I come up with that before I knocked? "I just came to wish you luck. For tomorrow," I clarify, internally cringing as soon as the words leave my mouth.

"Ah." He doesn't seem to know what to say for a moment. "Thanks," he adds a second later.

"You're welcome." I offer a stiff nod. You're welcome? Leavi, just talk to him!  "Do you," I start nervously, "look forward to it? Getting home, I mean?" The question hangs between us in the quiet half-light.

"Of course." His words hold no excitement, just a cold sincerity. "I'll be glad to fulfil my duty."

My head tips to the side. "That's all there is to it? Duty?" He hesitates, and I say, "You don't miss your home?"

"Yes. Of course I do." For the first time, a little bit of passion bleeds into his speech. "N'veauvia is beautiful, and the people are wonderful."

Despite the praise, he still seems like he's holding something back, hiding something. My brows draw together. "You sound more like an unsure tour guide than a homesick native."

He chuckles, but it sounds forced. "It is hard to describe the city."

"I didn't ask you to describe it." My eyes search his. "I asked if you missed it."

"I do." His feet shift. "I was just trying, and failing apparently, to express what I missed."

I should go, let him get to sleep, but for some reason, I can't leave. There's something off here, a mystery, and it bothers me that I can't put it together. "I see."

I know he's hiding something, but I can't bring myself to ask about it directly. It's not my place to press even if it sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than me.

I change tack, trying to keep our teetering conversation from falling. "Whatever will you do without the, ah... minimalistic simplicity of farmhouse living?" I chuckle awkwardly, gesturing to his empty room.

He nods solemnly. "The reaching views and ornate architecture of the castle will never compare." He seems to think of something, and his barely concealed smile falls.

"What?" I ask softly, setting my hand on his door frame.

He doesn't look me in the eyes. "I'm not sure what you're asking about."

I study his face, the slight downturn to his lips, the heaviness to his shoulders. No one has that kind of weight on them without an idea of how it got there. "I think you do."

His eyes shoot to meet my gaze, one eyebrow tipping up. "Pardon?"

"I think you do know what I'm talking about." The pieces of the mystery—his hesitation, shaky denials, thin facade—all click together, and before my brain can override my mouth, I blurt, "You don't really want to go back, do you?"

"Of course I do!" he stutters. "It's my home."

I step into his doorway. "Some people don't want to go home."

I expect him to back up, but he holds his ground, us just inches apart. His eyes close, the first crack in his facade appearing. "It's not that I don't want to go home."

My fingers come to rest lightly on his shoulder. "Then what is it?"

His eyes open, and his lips fumble for a response. "Nothing," he finally manages, slipping his shoulder out from under my hand. "Nothing's wrong."

Letting my hand drop, I insist, "Then why don't you want to go back?"

"Leavi, I—" He takes a deep breath. "I do."

"Really? Then tell me one thing you're looking forward to—actually looking forward to."

His hands explode outward. "You want me to name something good about the war in my homeland, the war that I'm not prepared to lead, that I—" He runs a hand through his hair. "What do you want, Leavi?" He pins me with a haunted gaze.

My heart aches. In that moment, if I could take all his pains and fears and put them on myself, I swear I would. "I just want you to be happy, Aster."

He turns away. "That's not what matters."

I catch his wrist, and his troubled eyes meet mine. "How can it not matter?" I exclaim.

He shakes me off, turning toward the window again. "Because there are more important things than me."

I circle around in front of him. "Like what?" I demand.

"Like the welfare of my country! I have a job to do, duties to fulfil. People depend on me, and I'm not there!"

"Let someone else do it!"

"It doesn't work like that."

"If you don't want to go back, you shouldn't have to!"

He steps towards me. "What do you expect me to do, Leavi?"

"Stay here, if that's what you want!"

"And abandon my people?"

"And live your life," I challenge.

"My country is my life. I've always known that."

"And I always knew I was going to be a scientist that never stepped foot out of the High Valleys!" I gesture to the room. "Things change, Aster. Sometimes the world intervenes, but sometimes we have to change them. This is your chance. This is your choice. Please don't let anybody else choose for you."

His eyes study my face, frustration trapped within their wells. His voice dissolves into a pained whisper. "What do you want me to tell you, Leavi?"

I know, deep inside me, that I'm not going to change his mind, that I'm not going to convince him to choose for himself. The boy in front of me is far too selfless for that. But I don't want him to be. Just this one time, I wish he wouldn't do the right thing.

Tell me that you don't have to go, I want to say. Tell me you want to travel with me, to find somewhere big and busy and interesting like we both like and live there for a little while. Tell me if we get bored there, that we can leave together, that we can stay friends. Tell me I can save you from your prisons and find you ways to the impossible places you want to go. Tell me you'll watch out for me when I don't bother listening and catch me when I fall off roofs. 

My stomach wrenches, and a strange electricity prickles in my veins. An orb of silver light materializes in between us. It expands and spirals up, giving form to a long-haired girl no larger than my thumb. She extends her arm, and a boy appears beside her. He takes her hand, and they stride forward, his cloak billowing behind him.

Then the lights break apart into dozens of separate streams, swirling around each other to reform the two figures, foreheads pressed together, hands clasped between them. Behind them, smaller lights form a city skyline. They wisp apart again and come back together, this time showing the girl falling backward. The boy catches her waist and pulls her close against him. He holds her there, safe.

My mouth gapes. That couldn't have been me. I didn't even say anything, don't even have his Book or powder or instructions—

Aster's eyes are wide. Before either of us can say a word, the images fade out of view, almost as if they were never there at all, and the odd energy I felt disappears with them.

My head is spinning, heart hammering, mind searching for some sort of answer, and my eyes turn up to find his.

He pauses, seemingly as shocked by the display as me. He replies slowly. "I'm so sorry. I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" He shakes his head. "I can't do this. I can't say goodbye to you." He leaves. Pushes around me and, as silent as ever, hurries down the stairs.

I stare after him in open-mouthed shock. I can't say goodbye to you. What is that supposed to mean?

A horrible thought occurs to me. He's going to disable the portal.

I may want him to stay, but I want him to want it, to fully, completely, rationally want it. Not to fly off and do something he'll regret by morning.

He's too good-hearted to be happy serving his own desires.

"Stupid, stupid boy," I curse. I fly down the stairs, but by the time I reach the bottom, he's already gone. I rush outside, the door banging behind me. Crisp air nips at my face, but I ignore its sting. My feet carry me through the mounds of snow and into the husk of the barn.

In the center, the portal floats ten feet high around the pearl suspended in its center, untouched. Wispy blue lights swirl around it like a living thing. So he hasn't tampered with it.

Maybe he doesn't know how to. But Idyne does.

I run back the way I came and burst into the watch room. "Has Aster been here?"

Wide eyed, she shakes her head.

"If he asks you to mess with the portal, don't do it."

"Mess with the portal? Of course... not." As I leave, her stream of bright chatter carries to my ears. "Twisty twists, shifting shifts. Ends of things begin again, ends of journeys begin with friends..."

Chilled by the nonsense song, I hurry downstairs. I sweep again through the house, but there's still no sign of him. My frenzied mind forces me back outside, but the empty clearing and treeline are all that greet me. "Aster!" I call, looking around. Where could he have gone? "Aster!"

Against the snow, my voice sounds dead in my own ears, and I earn no response. I circle the house, then venture as far as the edge of the woods, peering against the dark for any sign of him. My search reveals nothing. Frustrated, I shout, "Where are you, stupid boy?" Stupid, kind, sweet, loyal boy.

Receiving no answer, I kick at the snow, its flakes spraying up in the air. He has to be out here somewhere. All he has is that stupid cloak to keep him warm, and he doesn't have any food, and if he gets lost...

"Stupid, stupid boy," I mutter, making my way back to the front door. I lean against the wall and wait.

For the first time in a week, snow falls from the sky like sticky popped corn, speckling my hair and gathering on my skin. I pull my arms around me.

"I didn't mean to do this, Aster," I whisper to the empty air. "I'll learn to keep my mouth shut one day, I promise." A bitter laugh escapes my lips. "One day."

Eternity could pass by in the snow, and I would miss it. There's just the cold, my tingling skin, and my eyes, searching. Waiting.

At some point, the door opens behind me, and a wave of heat rolls out. I shiver, and Jacin glances over. "Leavi! What are you doing out here?" He circles in front of me, hands moving up and down my arms, trying to warm me up.

I pull away. "Waiting." My voice sounds oddly flat in my own ears, but I can't work up the will to inject any energy into it. Then my eyes light, thinking. "You haven't seen Aster, have you?"

He frowns. "No."

"Oh." I hunch in on myself again, disappointed. He just stares at me. After a second, realizing I probably owe him some modicum of conversation, I use my head to gesture toward the door. "You should probably go inside. It's late."

"You're one to talk!" He sighs, a sharp, disbelieving sound. "Come on."

He tries to bundle me inside, but I shake him off. "I'm waiting for Aster."

"Well, you can wait inside."

"No," I explain quietly. "I should—"

"Where you won't freeze to death," he finishes. "Now come on." He drags me to the dying hearth despite my protests and wraps me up in blankets. Wood is carried in and added to the flames, and a mug of something warm is placed into my hands. My body sets to tingling, that burning, spiking sensation you only get after being in the cold too long and coming back to the heat.

I think I preferred the numbness of outside. My thoughts are gearing back to life, but I don't want them to. Because there's another explanation to his statement from earlier, other than that he decided he wasn't going to leave.

He simply doesn't want to see me; he doesn't want to say the word 'goodbye.'

And that's alright. I'll honor his wishes. After all, maybe it's better this way. Easier.

After I'm warmed up, I pad upstairs—away from Jacin, away from the door, away from the warmth of the fire and the cold of the snow. My feet drag, head drooping like it's filled with rocks. My hand on the stair rail is my anchor, keeping me awake. I push into an empty room that borders the chimney and curl up in the floor to sleep. It's been a long night; I doubt I'll make it up in time to see him off tomorrow.