Disclaimer: I'm not officially connected with these books in any way. I just read far too much into things.
The End Is Near
His hands race over the keys. He doesn't dare stop, even when his fingers cramp and there are shooting pains in his wrists and arms. They go away. They go away if he keeps typing, and he has to keep typing because he is so close now, so close. Twelve books down. One to go.
And of course he has not succeeded yet, far from it. Twelve are already published and safe (thousands of copies, no one could burn them all) but they are not enough, not even half the battle. This last one is everything and if he is captured now with it half completed all his efforts will have been for naught. Too cruel, to have it all end here. But far too plausible. And so he has to work even harder, write even faster, only stopping to eat and sleep and do whatever else is necessary to survive.
Survive is a word which here means keep running. They say he has disappeared again, and they are right, except for the again part. No one can know where he is this time, not even Daniel (not even Kit) because then when he is found and exposed and destroyed there will be a safeguard, a way to make sure the flames do not spread. If it comes to it, he can cut himself off completely. No one else must be harmed by this quest of his. Another vow he has made.
And he means if, of course.
If he is found, if he is exposed, if he is destroyed.
Because there is hope. There is a chance that he will succeed despite everything, that he will emerge victorious after all, exonerated. Even on the worst days, when he wakes up cold and afraid and nearly too exhausted to move, that chance is there, driving him onward through the pain. Soon he will be finished, he will have fulfilled his promise, her legacy, and then…
And then it will be over. Her death will be avenged. His name will be cleared. He dreams of that moment ("And then the truth was known, and the wicked Count was defeated! And the children were saved, and there was a marvellous party to celebrate all their good fortune. And they all lived happily ever after.")
That moment. The end of running and hiding, the end of being scared and alone and in danger, the end of struggling, the end of writing. The end of…
…well, of everything.
The books are everything to him. Beatrice is (was) everything to him, and this is her legacy to him. This journey he is on, following them, and now he is finally, almost, at his destination. He has tried to travel hopefully. It is better to travel hopefully than to…
Well…
Aphorisms have never meant much to him, anyway.
It will be over soon, he won't have to do this any more, this work that has consumed his life these last few years. And of course that will be a relief. Of course he'll be glad to stop writing such dreadful things. Of course.
("The Count was defeated! And there was a marvellous party! And they all lived happily ever after!")
It will all be over soon.
Not yet though. Not quite yet.
His hands race over the keys.
He doesn't dare stop.
But sooner or later, he knows he'll have to.