Blinded by the Light

by taitofan

Rated T for implied sexual situations

Disclaimer: I don't own Over the Garden Wall or its characters.

Author's Note: Well, here's a sequel to Light My Fire. My rp partner won a giveaway I held, and this is the requested prize.

If you have any CC, please share and I'll listen. Please read, review, and enjoy! Finished 05-30-15

"I need your help."

It didn't surprise Wirt when the Woodsman merely stared at him rather than respond. How long had it been since they'd last seen each other? How long had he walked alongside the Beast, carrying the dark lantern, keeping it lit? A very long time, was all he knew, and yet they still looked just as they had so long ago.

Well, they were dead, so that only seemed to make sense.

"Father, is something wrong?"

A girl poked her head out of the cabin—she looked a few years older than Wirt did, but there was no knowing how old she truly was. But this was the girl who the Woodsman had carried the lantern for, so she was likely quite a bit older than he was. It was all rather fascinating to think about. He wondered how many of the living would sell their very souls for knowledge of this purgatory that had become so common to him.

"No dear, everything is fine." The Woodsman didn't turn to her as he spoke. In fact, his eyes never left Wirt. He was suspicious, and Wirt supposed he couldn't blame him. "Please go inside."

"Y-yes father." She looked frightened. He wondered if she knew who he was.

"I see you got your daughter back," he noted in an attempt at polite conversation. The Woodsman's eyes only narrowed.

"…Yes," he answered, his eyes darting around, as if expected to see the Beast lurking in the shadows. Wirt tried not to chuckle at his paranoia. "Once the Beast had you to take care of his soul, I returned home to find her. There was no need to lie and keep me under his thumb when he has you, Prince."

Wirt smiled; not only did the Woodsman remember him, but he'd heard the tales that people whispered about the forest. Good. That made things easier.

"Will you listen to my request?" he asked politely, giving the Woodsman a small bow. He didn't look impressed—Wirt decided he'd just have to try harder. There was a reason he was known as the Prince of the forest those days, and it wasn't solely because the Beast was the king. What sort of prince couldn't charm his way into hearts and minds?

"I don't see why I should," the Woodsman's gruff voice replied after a few moments. "I have my daughter and I've washed my hands of the Beast, while you have gone and become the Beast's Prince. What could you possibly want from me, that I would have any desire to help you with?"

Wirt's smile didn't fade. He didn't look upset about the resistance he was getting in the least. After all, all of that had been taken from him years ago, pulled away slowly and locked in the deepest part of his psyche. He was happy now, with the Beast. But sometimes…. Sometimes still he longed for someone he'd lost.

"I want to see Greg again," he admitted quietly, his smile tinged with the smallest amount of regret that he was still capable of, "if only for a little while."

The Woodsman body relaxed, just a bit. This was what Wirt was hoping for—that his memories of the sweet, quirky little boy would change his mind.

"…And how do you expect me to help you do that?" His walls were down; it was time to move in.

"We need information from people not willing to speak to me," he explained quickly, before he had time to change his mind. "You, though… They know you would have no reason to help us. They'll talk to you."

"We?" He quirked a brow, once again looking towards the forest. "The Beast approves of this?"

"I couldn't do this if he didn't." He knew the Woodsman would not see the Beast, but Wirt could sense he was near. He was always near. "He was the one who suggested I come to you." He'd actually said that the Woodsman was just sentimental enough to help, but he left that part out.

"I don't like it, not at all." He shook his head, but Wirt was not deterred. Not at all. "…But I will gather this information for you, so long as the Beast stays away from both myself and my daughter completely when all of this is over."

"I will ask him, and if he agrees, I will return in the morning for you. If he does not," though he would, Wirt knew he would, "then you have nothing to worry about, and we won't be back."

"Very well. I will await your arrival, though I hope not to see you."

Wirt only bowed again, then turned from the Woodsman and walked back to the forest. Soon… Soon he'd be able to see Greg again, he just knew it.

Walking through the forest, the cabin to his back getting smaller and smaller, Wirt felt more and more at home. He didn't often leave the safety of the trees anymore. It was easy enough to entice lost souls inside, leading them deeper and deeper, telling them of his sad life and death, making them doubt their own drive to leave the Unknown. It was easy for them to turn to Edelwood at that point. Then the Beast would come, and they'd fill the lantern…

Even if the oil wasn't needed, Wirt almost shivered when he thought of how much power they received for every lost soul harvested. Why, the Beast's magic was so mighty now that Wirt could barely contain himself whenever it flared up. The Beast was just so—

"Ah, my Prince, you have returned." Wirt did shiver this time. The combination of his deep voice and the familiar arms that encircled him from behind never stopped from exciting him. "How did your meeting with the Woodsman go?"

"He'll do it as long as you leave him and his daughter alone afterwards." His breath hitched as the Beast's hands wandered over his body. Having a body that was forever fifteen was occasionally troublesome, but it certainly wasn't all bad.

"What a pity. I have a rather soft spot for my old associate. But if that's what it will take…" Wirt could tell there was something the Beast wasn't saying, but it didn't matter. He'd agreed, and that was all that Wirt cared about. If only he could see Greg, make sure he was doing alright, then he'd never be dissatisfied in any capacity ever again. "But are you sure you wish to go through all this trouble? I could easily take that little spot of longing from you."

"Thanks, but no. I'm grateful for what you've done for me, but I just…" His eyes slipped shut as he remembered his little brother's face smiling up at him. He'd been a fool to treat him so badly, but he didn't—he couldn't—wish things had turned out any other way. He could only hope Greg was doing well on his own. "I want to make sure Greg is okay."

"And it has nothing to do with regret?" Wirt chuckled, leaning down to gently set the lantern on the ground.

"You took away my ability to feel regret almost a decade ago."

"And you've been better for it."

"Yes, I have." He gasped as the Beast slowly began to take his gnarled fingers lower. "B-beast…"

"Hush, my prince," the Beast crooned, "and let me show you how much nicer it feels to not think of such things."

Wirt did as he was told, and as usual, he found that the Beast was right.

"Father, must you leave?" The Woodsman hated to hear her sound so worried, but he understood why. He'd feel the same if their positions were switched. "To go off with the Beast…"

"But then he will leave us alone," he pointed out to her gently, not telling her that he realized that the Beast wouldn't necessarily honor his word. Still, he knew the Beast and Wirt would show up that morning, and he could only hope that Wirt would make him honor any promises made. Besides, it had been nearly a decade since he last saw either of them. He could at least go another decade after this, right?

"As long as this isn't a trap," she countered, pushing her porridge around idly. He knew she was against it no matter what his reasoning, but this was something he felt he had to do. At least part of what happened to Wirt had been his fault. If he hadn't been tricked… If he had gotten them to safety…

Well, he wasn't going to regret things. It had still been Wirt's decision and the Beast's deception that led them where they were. He'd do this deed and never feel guilty again.

A knock on the door sounded in the small cabin. It was time.

"Please stay safe," he implored, kissing her head. He wouldn't say goodbye—he would be back before either of them knew it.

"I will father," she promised, still not looking happy that he was going. "Beatrice was going to visit today anyway. I'm sure she will stay until you return."

He smiled at her as he fastened his axe to his belt—with any luck, he wouldn't have to use it—and turned to the door. It was time. Without another look back—lest he change his mind—he went outside, finding Wirt standing there, lantern dutifully in hand.

"Good morning, Woodsman," he greeted far too cheerfully for someone who wandered the forest with the Beast year after year. "The Beast has agreed to your terms."

"As I had thought." He didn't bother with any greetings, simply wanting to get this over. "Let us be off."

Wirt simply smiled and gestured towards the forest. The Woodsman followed behind Wirt wordlessly, tense as he realized that the Beast wouldn't be far behind. He'd hoped to never see that bastard again, but he could never be so lucky. To think, he was coming back into the woods of his own accord and—

"Hello, Woodsman. It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

He might have frozen if he'd been of a weaker constitution, but he'd dealt with the Beast before, and he could deal with him now.

"Beast," he acknowledged with a nod, though he couldn't actually see the creature yet. "It has been far too soon since we last met."

"Now, now," the Beast sounded far too amused for his tastes, "is that anyway to speak to an old friend?"

"You're no friend of mine," he muttered. The Beast laughed, and Wirt raised the lantern, allowing him to finally see the creature. He looked no different than he had a decade before, right down to the short glimpses of snarled Edelwood that made up his body. There was, however, one thing that was quite different… "The lantern… How did the flame become green?"

"My soul entered it when I started carrying it," Wirt answered, as if there was nothing concerning about that statement. "Mine was blue."

"…I see."

"Something bothers you." He glared at the Beast, though the shadows made him unable to tell if the Beast was even looking his way.

"Hardly. I only wonder why you never tried to tie my soul to the lantern as well, if you had so many problems with getting me to do your bidding. Seems like it would have been easier than lying to me about my daughter's soul never being lost at all and keeping me away from her." Never had he felt more foolish then when he found out his daughter had been safe all that time—that he'd been the one who'd truly been lost.

"I had considered it," the Beast replied easily, "but you weren't as… receptive of my advances."

"Advances?" Wirt asked, looking from the Beast to him, a curious expression on his face.

"Yes, I told the Woodsman we would work well together, but he didn't believe me." He bristled as he realized what the Beast was insinuating.

"I had a wife."

"Yes, had. You don't even remember her." He wished that he could have argued, but nothing he said was untrue. "She never even came to the Unknown."

"Wait, what?" He knew that Wirt now understood how the Unknown worked. Lost souls, between life and death… Only the ones with the will to live left this place. "So you and your daughter…"

"I don't know," he admitted hoping that an explanation would get the boy to drop the subject. "It differs from person to person how much they remember about their life, or how they died. I know that I was married, but I don't remember anything about her. I can't remember how my daughter and I died. I don't even know our names."

"O-oh. I had no idea…"

"Of course not," he snapped, not wanting pity from the Beast's little pet. "You've wandered the woods with the Beast for most of your time here, and he wouldn't bother telling you such things."

"Come now, let's speak of other things, Woodsman." He drifted closer to Wirt, laying a hand on his shoulder. The Woodsman turned his gaze, not wanting to see such a display. "If this works, perhaps you too can learn something from the living world."

It was a tempting idea, he realized. He hadn't thought about joining Wirt if he found a way out of the Unknown, but… The idea swirled around his mind. Maybe he could find out who he was, who his daughter was. Wouldn't it be nice to know his name?

"If you tried advancing on him, did you two…?" Wirt's voice was soft, but not soft enough not for him to hear. He wasn't sure Wirt was even trying to remain unheard.

"Perhaps you should ask him?" Wirt nodded and turned back to him, and to his surprise, Wirt didn't look jealous. He seemed… excited, almost.

"Woodsman, what nature were the Beast's advances?"

His mind, unbidden, recalled that night long ago. He'd only been carrying the lantern for a short while, and he'd been so very lonely. The Beast had spoken to him in his deep voice, smooth and comforting, telling him everything he'd wanted to hear. It had only been that once, and he'd regretted his moment of weakness almost immediately.

He hated that his body regretted never letting it happen again.

"…I believe you have experience with his methods."

Wirt laughed, not unkindly, and turned his gaze forward again. He wouldn't look at the Beast, but somehow, he just knew he was leering.

They reached the outskirts of Pottsfield just as day was breaking. The Beast and Wirt waited within the safety of the forest, while the Woodsman headed to the strange little town, mindful of the pumpkins along the way. He'd been there before, back when he stayed at the millhouse he later learned belonged to Beatrice's family. He'd never faced Enoch's unique punishments, and he didn't want to start now.

He wasn't terribly concerned to see all the houses empty, nor to hear the music coming from the large barn. The residents of Pottsfield did so love their celebrations. He was careful not to interrupt as he peeked inside, seeing the pumpkin-donning skeletons dancing about. To his relief, they weren't using Enoch's false body as a maypole, instead seeing the small black cat laying on a barrel, watching his townsfolk's merrymaking.

Almost as if Enoch could sense him—he wouldn't be surprised if that were the case—the cat looked in his direction. He said something to one of the skeletons, then jumped from the barrel, walking outside

"Hello Woodsman," he drawled, sitting by the Woodman's feet. "Haven't seen you in a while."

"Hello Enoch," he greeted back, finding nothing at all unusual about having a conversation with a cat. He'd experienced far too many odd things for that. "I haven't been to this area in quite a while. Not since I…"

Stopped serving the Beast? Quit unknowingly turning lost souls into oil? Realized the Beast was lying and his daughter had been waiting at home for him the entire time? Which of his foolish actions did he even start with?

"It's alright, friend," Enoch interjected, no judgment in his voice. "The past is the past, and I'd say you've paid your dues. Though I do have to wonder why you've got the smell of the Beast and the Prince on you."

He knew he shouldn't be surprised that Enoch could sense the others, yet he was still taken aback. Still, the cat stayed perfectly neutral.

"…I owe the boy this small favor, and the Beast at least claims that he'll leave me and my daughter be if I do this." He shook his head, wondering if he was even more of a fool to go along with this. "I simply need to know if you've heard of any way for a denizen of the Unknown to appear in the living world temporarily, or if you know anyone else who might."

"Hmm, afraid I don't, though it seems to me like Adelaide might have known, if she weren't dead." The Woodsman tried to stay clear of the witches of the woods. While more human than the creatures like Enoch or the Beast, witches shared the creature's lack of ever having been human. They could be very complicated to deal with. "But her sister Whispers might know."

"Whispers…" The name sounded familiar, but he was quite sure he'd never met her before. "If she's Adelaide's sister, the Beast should know who she is." He hoped Whispers was nothing like Adelaide. He'd only met the woman once, but she was very unnerving, what with her little dolls and her obsessive desire for the Beast's approval . He'd gotten the impression that she hadn't much liked him either.

"If not, maybe the Prince will. The boy made many allies before he went and lost 'em." Enoch stood up and stretched, then turned back to the barn. "Whatever you decide, Woodsman, you've got an ally in me. After all, the Beast and the Prince aren't all bad."

The Woodsman frowned as Enoch went back to the celebration. He didn't like what the cat was implying, not at all. An awfully presumptuous one, that spirit was…

He turned back to the woods, hoping that the witch might offer more information.

Upon hearing the name Whispers, Wirt had smiled. He remembered that witch! She'd been scary, but ultimately good, and she cared for Lorna a lot. He wondered if Lorna had stayed with her? He hoped so—he rather wanted to see her again.

He wondered what her life had been like before coming to the Unknown.

"I know Auntie Whispers," he told them, earning him curious looks at the moniker. He explained what had happened to them, from the turtles to the bell. The Woodsman seemed content that Wirt could lead them there, but the Beast was oddly quiet.

"Is something wrong?" he asked as they walked, the Woodsman a few feet behind them. He didn't particularly care if the older man heard anything he had to say. Not because he was indifferent, but because he wished to think that the Woodsman did want to hear what he said.

"You spoke fondly of that girl." He seemed to spit out the word. "Do not forget who you belong to."

Was he capable of being jealous? Wirt wasn't sure. He'd never had anything to be jealous of. Who else had the Beast expressed interest in? The Woodsman. He was hardly jealous about that. Quite the opposite, really.

"She was kind to me and Greg," he explained simply, holding up the lantern, its green glow bathing the area. "Anything else I might have felt back then is irrelevant, as this proves."

They'd had a similar conversation about Sara, back when Wirt had first asked about the possibility of going to the living world. He barely remembered the girl anymore, and he certainly held no special feelings for her.

"So long as the young woman feels just as indifferent." Wirt couldn't imagine that she didn't. He was well aware that very few people in the Unknown didn't fear him. He was a boogeyman now—no one wanted to be seen with him any more than they wanted to be around the Beast.

They walked in relative silence the rest of the way, and by the time Wirt spotted the old cottage, the sun was just beginning to set. The Woodsman readied himself to go inside, but Wirt placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head.

"Let me try first." Perhaps it was unwise, but he wanted to see Lorna again. Not for any reason the Beast might be jealous of, but simply because he wished to see her again. The Woodsman put up no fuss, stepping aside and allowing him to try. With no fear, for he had no fear to feel, he walked up to the cottage and knocked on the door.

"Hello?" The door creaked open, and Wirt saw Lorna standing there, just as he remembered her, simply less pale. Well, she wasn't possessed and sickly anymore, so that explained that. "O-oh my, it's you…"

Wirt found himself abruptly yanked into the cottage, the door shutting and locking behind him.

"Wirt, is that really you?" She looked him over, a sad realization in her eyes when she saw the lantern he carried. "Oh, my turtle, it's true, isn't it? You've become a loyal follower of the Beast…"

"I took over as lantern bearer to save Greg," he admitted, seeing no reason to lie. "And Greg is why I've come to see you today."

He told her about his plan, and how Enoch had suggested Whispers might know how to make it happen. Lorna listened quietly, shaking her head once he asked for their help.

"My little turtle… You once saved me from a terrible fate, and so no matter what you've become, I cannot deny you." She glanced upstairs, where Wirt assumed Whispers was sleeping. "Auntie Whispers and I shall help you, but I must warn you, you will only have one day, and you will not be able to go again. Are you sure that this will not hurt you more?"

"I…" Only one day… It was better than nothing, but he understood her concern. If only he could see Greg was well, he could carry on the rest of his days perfectly content. "I have to do this, Lorna."

"Very well," she nodded, walking back to the door and unlocking it again. "Come back tomorrow morning, and we will be ready for you."

"You're sure Whispers will help?"

"Auntie will help, if only because you rid me of the spirit." She opened the door, holding it for him. "But I beg you, please don't come back after we help you. Auntie lost her sister to the Beast's influence, and I do not wish to see her in pain."

"I understand." He did. He really did. "Thank you, Lorna. I'll be back in the morning."

"Good night, my turtle."

Wirt heard the door lock behind him, and he was rather sure that if sadness were something he still had the capacity to feel, perhaps he would feel it now.

Wirt didn't need to sleep, nor did the Beast, but the Woodsman did. They settled into the forest, and the Woodsman took off his jacket and used it as a makeshift pillow against a large tree. Wirt almost wished the night were cool—it would make his plan easier.

"I want him," he told the Beast simply, bluntly. "You had him once, so it shouldn't be a problem."

Unlike his reaction to Lorna, now the Beast only chuckled, running his wooden fingers down Wirt's cheek. After a moment, he turned and melted into the shadows, though Wirt knew he was still watching. He smiled—the Prince always got what he wanted.

"Woodsman," he called quietly, kneeling down by the sleeping man. "Woodsman, can you hear me?"

The older man said nothing. Wirt wasn't deterred. He hung the lantern on a sturdy tree branch and carefully positioned himself in the sleeping man's lap. He stirred, but he still didn't awaken. Wirt placed his hat on the ground, next to the Woodsman's, then leaned in and pressed their lips together.

At first, Wirt felt the Woodsman's lips move ever so slightly against his own. Then he woke up with a gasp, pushing Wirt away.

"W-what do you think you're doing, boy?" Thanks to the lantern, Wirt could tell that the Woodsman's face was flushed. He smiled and slowly crawled back into the Woodsman's lap.

"I'm not a boy," he insisted, moving a hand behind the Woodman's head to get a better angle. The woodsman didn't push him away this time, but he didn't return the kiss either. When he pulled back, he sighed. "I might look fifteen, but I'm technically twenty-five. You don't have to feel bad or anything. You must be in, what, your forties?"

"For many years, yes. But you're still younger then my daughter."

"So?" he questioned, running his other hand down the Woodsman's toned arm. He remembered seeing him break a rock with an axe the first time they met, and he shivered. The Beast had such magical power, but the Woodsman possessed such raw physical power! "How long has it been since you were last with anyone? Was it the Beast? That means it's been years."

"You and the Beast—"

"He knows." He gestured out into the darkness and smiled. "I told him what I intend to have, and he approves as long as it's you."

"…This is wrong."

"Perhaps, but I don't really care." He leaned in again, pressing his body close to the Woodsman's. Much to his delight, this time his kiss was returned, tentatively at first, then with a sort of frenzied desperation. Wirt gasped as the Woodsman pulled him flush against his broad chest, his strong arms around Wirt's waist.

And when the Woodsman was the first one to start pulling off their clothes, well, Wirt knew he had won.

The morning came too soon.

Wirt pretended to sleep throughout the rest of the night, but come sunrise, the Woodsman untangled himself and quickly began to dress. Wirt sat up, no longer seeing any reason to act as if he were sleeping, and watched him. Closely.

"Do you regret it?" The Woodsman didn't seem surprised that he was awake. He didn't stop dressing either. "I don't."

"I'm sure you don't. But you also have no shame. I'm sure the Beast took that from you as well." Probably, he thought. "…Last night should not have happened."

"But it did. And you were very passionate." It had been terribly clear that the Woodsman was lonely. Not to mention repressed. When had the man last been on top? When he was alive? That was a crime—Wirt was nothing but satisfied. He adored being with the Beast, but his body was still wooden. The Woodsman was warm and strong and attentive. No wonder the Beast had attempted to seduce him. The Woodsman, quite frankly, was an excellent lover.

"Compared to the Beast, I'm sure anyone would have pleased you." The Woodsman was fully dressed, and he next gathered Wirt's clothing, handing it to him. "You should get ready to meet with the witch."

Wirt did as he said, knowing that much was true. Lorna would be quite cross if he appeared at her door in the nude. He took his time, noticing that the Woodsman was deliberately looking away.

"Woodsman, I think you don't give yourself enough credit." He finished dressing and walked over to the Woodsman, reaching up to kiss his cheek. "There's a reason the Beast and I chose you."

He grabbed the lantern and left the forest after that, knowing that the Beast had seen and heard everything. Perhaps, he thought, the two might come to an understanding while he was gone. If not, that was fine too.

He'd had a taste of the Woodsman, and now he had a thirst that would not be easily quenched.

"Woodsman."

He groaned, knowing that this was coming. Of course it was. How could he have thought anything else?

"Beast." The creature stepped from the shadows enough for the Woodsman to see his darkened body. "You saw it all."

"I did. The two of you put on quite a show for me." He scowled, and the Beast laughed heartily. "Now, now, don't look so sour. Wirt was very satisfied, and he can be a rather insatiable young man. I'm impressed."

"I don't want to hear it," he snapped, wishing his axe wasn't sitting with his other belongings. Slicing him down would only inconvenience the Beast, but it would make him feel better.

"But I think you need to." The Beast slid closer, circling around him. "Woodsman, you have never held any love in your heart for your lost wife. You don't even remember a thing about her. So why keep pretending? For your daughter?"

"Leave my daughter out of this!"

"Come, let's not fool ourselves." He stopped behind the Woodsman, his arms reaching out and pulling him close. "You denied me once, but it is not too late. Wirt is fond of you, and while you were a terrible lantern bearer, I was fond of you as well. Continue to be with us, Woodsman. Stop denying yourself what you desire."

The Woodsman hated that the words were tempting. He hated that he knew his daughter could take care of herself—that she had for all the years he'd been gone. He hated that he often longed to be outside, feeling the cabin was too stifling. But mostly, he hated himself for feeling desire swell as the Beast's hands ran down his torso.

"L-leave me be!" he cried, wrenching himself away. "I've had enough of your trickery, Beast! You will leave me and my daughter alone after this is through, am I clear?"

The Beast laughed; the Woodsman almost shivered.

"Whatever you say, Woodsman. Whatever you say…"

Wirt left the cottage, the lantern in one hand, and a glowing ball of pink light floating above the other. This was it. This was the key to seeing Greg.

True to his word, he had said goodbye to Lorna forever, knowing that his mere presence reminded Whispers of her lost sister. Perhaps they hadn't gotten along, but they were family. He was lucky the witch had helped at all. He assumed that using the bell to rid Lorna of the evil spirit was the only reason she even agreed.

He swiftly returned to the woods, finding the Woodsman and the Beast standing where he'd left them. The Woodsman looked agitated, while the Beast was clearly amused. Ah, so it hadn't ended well. No fear, the Woodsman would come around eventually.

"I have it," he announced as he drew near. "This orb will bring us to the living world for twenty four hours. That is all that the magic can sustain temporary bodies for. Once they break down, we will return back here, and no time will have passed."

Time flowed differently between the living world and the Unknown anyway. Of course no time would pass. Still, it was a relief to know their real bodies in the Unknown would face no harm.

"We?" the Woodsman questioned, glancing at the Beast. "Does that mean all three of us?"

"Yes," Wirt grinned, as he looked between them. "Whispers just seemed to know that I'd want to take the Beast too, and she said he'd gain a human body while we were there. I might look older too. She wasn't really sure about that. This hasn't been tested more than a few times, or so she claims."

"Interesting…" The Beast had once said that if he'd ever been a human, he couldn't remember it. Perhaps he'd never been a lost human at all—who knew? Either way, with their magical power so high, perhaps this trip could somehow cause the Beast to learn how to make a temporary human form when they returned? He'd grown fond of the Edelwood body, but certain things were a bit easier with flesh. "Well then, are we all ready to go?"

They both turned to the Woodsman, who sighed, but ultimately nodded.

"Alright. But only in the hopes I'll find out who I was."

Wirt laughed as he held the orb high, repeating the words Whispers had instructed him to say. The pink orb slowly grew as he spoke, the light almost blinding. When the last word slipped from his mouth, he felt his body fall…

And when he opened his eyes, he found himself by a river, facing a familiar cemetery wall.