Despite his best attempts, Ty couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but then he wasn't even entirely sure that he had fingers to put on anything to begin with. He was floating, numb and surrounded by darkness, unsure which way was up and unable to remember the last time his feet had touched solid ground. The only thing he was sure about was the fact that he existed, because he knew that if he didn't exist, he wouldn't be able to think about whether he existed or not. He also knew that if he didn't exist, it would be impossible for him to be bored, and boy, was he bored.
He blinked.
At least, he thought about blinking. He couldn't tell whether he succeeded or not, because he didn't know whether he had a body to blink with, and in any case, the darkness surrounding him was so black and absolute that he couldn't tell whether his eyes were even open to start with. He didn't know how long he had been there, floating endlessly, numb and dizzy in infinity, but he couldn't remember a time before and he couldn't imagine a time after, if there would be an after.
He went back to thinking about whether he existed or not. It was a question that occupied quite a lot of his time, and as he hadn't yet found proof that he did or didn't exist, it was a question that he figured he could continue to think about for at least a little while longer. It was also a question that seemed to create a lot of other questions, which kept him thinking for even longer still, and kept his mind off the void stretching out in all directions around him.
It was quiet, and that was enough.
He groaned, and the room swam into focus around him, unfamiliar and cold. The arched ceiling stretched out above his head, dimly visible through the blue-grey dawn light. A large window set into the far wall looked out over a distant Idris, the ice-white demon towers standing tall and defiant against the horizon. Dark woodlands spread out towards them, the fir trees appearing navy and fading to grey beneath the mist.
He sat up, his fist curling over the sharp pain in his chest. It felt as though something vital was missing from him, as though his heart had been ripped from beneath his ribs and discarded somewhere a million miles away. His feet landed lightly on the floor beside the bed, the cold air biting at his bare skin as he stumbled towards the window. His hands shook, his slender fingers fumbling at the latches as he fought to throw it open against the brisk morning air.
The wind rushed in to meet him, ruffling his tar-black curls and pinching colour into his cheeks. The fingers of one hand were resting lightly on his sternum, the pain and loss inside him pinching with every beat of his heart. Though nobody had told him, and he didn't have any proof of the matter, he knew what had happened. Despite this knowledge and the unmovable feeling of grief buried deep within him, he refused to believe it. It couldn't be true.
He sensed the warmth of someone stood behind him and flinched away, his elbow knocking on the windowsill. He reached out and took hold of the wood, his eyes focussed on a random point somewhere in the trees stretching away from the manor. Between the house and the woods stretched a maze, the carefully pruned hedges curling and twining together beneath the thick, grey mist. Ty imagined wandering through the hedges, down the grassy paths between the towering shrubs, winding his way through the fog towards the centre. He imagined he would find Livvy there, her dark hair dampened by the cold, curling around her head and sticking to her face as she sat, patiently waiting for him to find her.
"Ty," The voice was dry, rough and quiet, as though it hadn't been used in days. It belonged to Kit Herondale, who stood just behind him, one hand hovering an inch above Ty's bare shoulder. "Talk to me."
The faint rustling of the trees pushed against Ty's eardrums, the white noise of the wind ruffling the branches like waves crashing against him, turning him over and over and rushing down his throat. The sharp pain in his chest had dulled to an ache which he doubted would ever leave him, his trembling fingers tapping anxiously against the painted wood in front of him. His eyes darted from treetop to treetop, seeking out the black shadows of birds bouncing and dancing between the branches, the ripples of wind against the overgrown grass of the lawn, the grey clouds circling above the distant city. He moved his lips to reply, but couldn't bring himself to speak. The last thing he'd said had been her name, and he couldn't bring himself to erase the feel of it from his tongue.
"Please," Kit said, moving his hand away and coming to stop beside him, leaning his elbows on the windowsill and pressing his forehead against the glass. He wore a crumpled white shirt, open over an off-white vest. He ran his hands through his unwashed hair, closing his eyes and sighing deeply into the morning. "I…" Kit began, feeling the sting of tears against his eyes as he thought of Livvy, of the loss of her. Her absence was like a cloud hanging over Blackthorn Manor, black and heavy and cold as the looming autumn swirling outside. Kit felt it in his bones, his grief like ice in his blood. He could only begin to imagine how Ty felt, the boy who already seemed to feel things one-hundred times stronger than other people. He couldn't even begin to understand. "I loved her. I still love her, but I know there's nothing we can do to bring her back." He coughed awkwardly, his throat closing and constricting around the words. "She's gone. It was quick. It was a warrior's death."
Ty turned to face Kit, his eyes murderous, full of anger like the storm brewing outside. His face was pale, the dark circles around his eyes signs of what he was going through. Though he had been asleep for days, the boy looked tired in a way that Kit thought would never go away, his sallow skin clinging to the bones of his face. There was nothing Kit could say that would make Ty feel better, and yet he knew he couldn't leave him here alone. "Ty," Kit sighed, reaching forwards and placing one warm hand over Ty's clenched fist.
Ty pulled his hand away, letting it fall to his side. His fingers curled and uncurled against his thighs, his bitten-down fingernails scratching at the worn fabric of the pyjamas his friends had put him into. "The others," Ty spoke finally, his eyes closed against the bright yellow glow of Kit's hair, his whole body vibrating with anxiety. "Are the others okay?"
Kit took hold of his hands and gripped them with all his strength, wrapping Ty's shaking fingers in his. There was no way his family would ever be okay again. In fact, Kit hadn't seen Julian since the Gard, where he had seen him kneeling over Livvy's body, the grief and loss in him raw and exposed to the world, his weaknesses laid bare for the first time since his parents had died. Emma had begun her exile early, taking Christina with her back to Mexico to be away from it all. Kit and Drusilla had been taking it in turns to care for Tavvy, the other sitting with Ty in one of the second-floor bedrooms of the manor, waiting patiently for him to wake up.
He wanted desperately to lie to him, to tell him that they were all okay, but Livvy's voice remained in his head, begging him to be honest, not to lie. How could he even begin to explain what they were all going through, what he was stuck in the middle of, witnessing and feeling without ever really feeling as though their pain was his to share in? "They will be," he said finally, looking tentatively into Ty's eyes. "They're safe, alive, uninjured. They're just in pain, and they're all dealing with it differently." Kit finished, rubbing his thumb gently across Ty's knuckles.
Ty shuddered. "And you?" He asked, dropping his head onto Kit's shoulder. He smelt faintly of sweat, of dehydration and sleepless nights. His body was warm, and Ty could feel the steady beat of his heart in the pulse in his neck, feel the gentle tickle of his golden hair against his skin. He worked his hands free of Kit's fists and wrapped his arms around his body, tangling them in his shirt. Kit hugged him back, holding him as tight as he dared, thinking back just a few days to that night on the roof, Ty's trembling body vibrating in his arms.
Kit shook his head. "I miss her," he whispered, his lips against Ty's hair. "But I'm going to keep fighting, and now when I do… it'll be for her."