Gasping now, half laughing and half sobbing, I rocked back and forth, unable to stand it for a single second longer—this great, gaping hole in my chest where Ansel had been. Where Estelle and my mother and Manon and my father and Coco and Beau and even Reid had been. I had once been there too. Happy and whole and safe and sound. What had happened? What had led us here? Surely we’d done nothing to deserve this life. If someone like Ansel had received only neglect, loneliness, and pain for his efforts, for his goodness, what hope could the rest of us have? I’d lied, killed, and cheated—I’d shredded the very fibers of my soul—yet here I was, still standing. He deserved better. He deserved more, so much more than he’d ever been given. In another time, I would’ve screamed and raged at the injustice of it all, at the senselessness, but no amount of anger would change anything now. This was life.

And Ansel was dead.

In another day, another week, another month, this would be Reid’s lifeless body I inevitably held, or Coco’s. Beau’s own father would probably kill him, as my own mother would eventually kill me. There really was only one way this story could end. I’d been so foolish to think otherwise. So stupid and naive.

“It’ll be quick,” Nicholina lied in a whisper, bending over me. Her fingers caressed the back of my head, and her hair tickled my cheek. Around us, the entire cavern succumbed to black flame. “Painless. You will see him soon, little mouse. You can tell him exactly what he meant.”

But if I died now, his death would mean nothing.

My eyes snapped open at that cruel reality, and I stared numbly at the flames in front of me. Ansel deserved better. He deserved more than my self-pity. Summoning the final dregs of my strength—the absolute last of them—I lifted my head. She lifted her knife. Our eyes met for one synchronized beat of our hearts.

Then something moved in the tunnel.

Confusion flashed through us both before we turned. Coco’s fire had driven everyone in memory into that tunnel, and none should’ve reappeared. We’d all fled straight to Léviathan after La Mascarade des Crânes. Could someone have crept back? Could they have returned for Ansel’s body? I instantly quelled the thought. Even if someone had miraculously traversed the cursed fire, this was my memory. It should’ve ended the moment I’d disappeared in pursuit of Morgane. Why hadn’t it?

Through the smoke, a white dog emerged.