Now even the shortest spikes were a danger, like a thousand daggers stabbing at him all at once, so he took to punching them away, raining down crystalline shards in his wake, until his knuckles were cut and bloody.

He reached the highest point, searching the ceiling for any sort of a space they could crawl into, or at least somewhere safe he could deposit Gado, but it was an unbroken expanse of crystal, forever glowing that sterile white light.

Ludo started punching. The impact sent shockwaves through his hand and down his arm, but he didn’t stop, offering another bone-crunching blow that brought bloodstained cracks spiderwebbing along the surface.

His fist was done, the bones shattered, the pain immense.

The pain was nothing.

“Hang on,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Don’t let go.”

He felt the satisfying stab of small fingers digging into his shoulders and neck. He was being choked slightly, but he didn’t care about getting air at the moment, using his now-free hand to cling to a large spike and contort his body in such a way that his feet were aimed upward.

Smash! The impact of both boots hitting the ceiling at the same time reverberated through him.

Smash! More cracks now, some of them chipping away at the edges.

Smash! The walls were so close now he could feel them on both sides.

Smash! A spike stabbed into his hip, pinning him in place.

Desperate now, he offered everything he had left.

Smash-smash-smash!

The glass shattered, and he tucked his chin to his chest, closing his eye as pain pricked at his head. Gado cried out.

“I’ve got you. I’m going to save you.”

The rain of glass had ended and now he opened his eye, ready to shove Gado upwards with all his might, sending him into the safe place beyond the bounds of the room. Even if he was unable to follow, at least Gado would be safe, correcting his failure from all those years ago.

“No,” he breathed, staring at the unbroken ceiling in shock and horror. For though he’d damaged it with his kicks, it was only a single layer out of many. There was nowhere left to go, nothing else to do.

Gado’s tear-streaked face was so close now it was all he could see. Except the boy was no longer upset, nor was he Gado. Ludo was staring into his own boyish face, back when he still had two working eyes. Except now one of them began to darken, slashes appearing, along with vibrant red scar tissue. “Don’t you see?” the one-eyed boy said with Ludo’s childhood lips. “We never could’ve saved him. It wasn’t our responsibility. It was never our responsibility.”

“We didn’t even try.”

“We were children. We were scared.”

“So we should let fear dictate our actions? At what cost?”

“We should forgive ourselves. We have work to do. So much work.”