I blink, confused as the purple coalesces into a familiar skeletal form. Where are his memories? His last moments? His-ah. But he already died, how foolish of me. Now there is only flame, crackling out from his feet along the meadow, and a fist slammed crater-deep into the ground.

"Coward!" He bellows. "Fight me!"

Vivi circles up behind him and coils her arms around his middle. Immediately the flames die down, and his posture loosens. "Vivi," he sighs, resting his hands on her arms. "I found you. Good. Let's get out of here before…" he trails off, shoulders rising again. "Why can I feel you?"

Vivi doesn't answer, burying her face in his back.

"I can't feel anybody anymore!" His voice rises. "Why can I feel you now?" He grabs her arm, spinning around to face her.

"Hey, Lew," she says, her features blurring even more. "Things didn't go quite according to plan… again."

"But… but I was there!" He grips both of her arms desperately. "I got there! The flower said you were at the throne room! Nobody stopped me, nobody challenged me because they thought I was one of them! I had to have been minutes behind you!"

"Or ahead of me," she says softly. "I was down there a few weeks, Lew. I'm sorry."

Lewis sinks to his knees, still clutching Vivi's arms. His head drops, his shoulders heaving. "It wasn't even a fight. He just opened a vial. First glass ghost-trapping equipment. It was over in seconds and I couldn't stop this." He reaches up, touching Vivi's face. For a moment her expression is perfectly clear as she leans into his hand.

"And where is Arthur?" Lewis growls. "Probably hiding under a rock somewhere, waiting for someone to save him."

Vivi yanks away, her features dripping away and the buttercup petals in her hair sharpening to points. "Don't you dare."

Lewis stands, his hands balling into fists. I want to swipe that flaming skull away from his body as he retorts, "Well if he isn't here and he isn't hiding, where is he?"

I turn to the last vial, my tails tucked. Here lies my greatest failure, the one I have already harmed the most. Since that day he has hardly been able to look at me, much less pet or play with me as he used to. He had just begun to smile again, until Lewis returned to us. I lower my nose. It is unfair of me to bind him here. He has suffered enough. Perhaps he can finally rest.

Lewis crosses his arms, eyes narrowed as he takes in the existence of the third vial. "Don't expect me to feel sorry for him because he's dead."

My hackles rise, but Lewis' attitude is not my concern at the moment. "Arthur," I whisper, waiting for his appearance.

The vial does not break.

Vivi drifts down to the vial. "Arthur?" she calls. Lewis grunts, irritated.

I nudge the vial harder. It rolls a few inches, but does not break. The soul inside pulses a steady orange, and as I call his name again, I sense it. A faint resistance, a clinging to the bonds that keep him contained… or is it to the shield that keeps us out? He does not want to emerge.

Vivi is too fresh a spirit to sense it, but Lewis can and turns his head away. "Coward to the end."

"Lewis!" Vivi turns on him, the vines prickling with tiny thorns. "I've had it up to here! What is your problem?"

"What is my problem?" Lewis echoes in disbelief, one hand drifting to his middle.

"You heard me! You know what happened. You know Arthur was possessed. Unless you think Mystery's a liar and I'm an idiot, then you're just being bitter for no reason!"

"He was weak!" Lewis hissed. "He opened the door for that demon, he entertained the thoughts! If he hadn't, that night wouldn't have ended with me six feet under!"

"Yeah, and you haven't had thoughts like that ever. You're the perfect model of self-control and good intentions, Mr. Great-Balls-Of-Fire!"

The orange heart pulses brighter, the resistance receding as Vivi's words sharpen.

"If I was alive we wouldn't be arguing about this!" Lewis growled. "Do you know why? Because he wouldn't have killed me! Which means we'd all be on great terms, and you wouldn't have run off, and maybe, just maybe, you'd be alive right now too. Instead, we're all dead. Great job, Artie. Screwed us all over again. Helped get that flower exactly what it wanted, just like the demon in the cave."

And the glass cracks. Orange spills from the container, sparks flashing and crackling as an anguished cry takes me into Arthur's last moments.

"I failed!"

…..

There is dust on my hands and I am sick. I tried. I hid, I ran, I begged mercy, but some of them just wouldn't stop. I only meant to wound them, but almost nobody could match me after I modded my arm. It was only for defense, I told myself after I left the kindly woman in the Ruins. Lewis had left me behind, claiming he could search for VIvi faster without me since he was no longer human and they wouldn't suspect him. It was just me against whoever came along, wanting my soul. Part of me wonders if that's another reason Lewis left me behind.

I ruined the functions of my arm, binding the fingers together and sharpening the outer edge from elbow to fingertips until it was like a blade. I had to find Vivi and Lewis. It was my fault they'd vanished here. If I had worked harder at resolving things with Lewis instead of ducking my head every time he came around, Vivi wouldn't have been so frustrated and left without us. Or Lewis would have waited for me, and gods knew where he was now. It had been exactly three weeks and five days since I'd seen either of them and I had to make it right.

There is dust on my hands as I stand before the King, and I feel his gaze weighing me. Or is it my own judgment I feel crawling up my back? I can't tell anymore. His eyes are sad, not angry, but that only makes it worse.

I draw on the information the flower gave me, cradling the arm that has become a weapon. "I'm sorry, but I have to make things right. I'm here for Vivi and Lewis. Vivi is dressed head to toe in blue, you can't have missed her. Lewis is already in the form you're seeking; a soul. I know you need them. I know why you need them. But I can't let you have them."

He doesn't say a word. He pulls out a trident, long and red, and grips it in two meaty hands.

"Where are you keeping them?" I step back, holding my arm defensively. "Where is the dungeon?"

He lunges forward, the trident clashing off my arm. I'm thrown back in a shower of sparks, and I am barely to my feet before he comes again, swinging it to stun. I tuck and roll forward, spinning on my heel to meet his next blow, which dents my arm. Pain flashes down my spine. The connector implant can't take too many of these.

"Where are my friends?" I shout, shoving the trident. The king barely moves. He is solid, and I am already shaking, but I can't fail. Not again. If I could only get to Lewis!

He finally speaks. "I'm sorry," he says. "But I have to make things right."

And I understand. He will not be moved, just as I will not be moved. Neither of us wants to be here, but neither of us can leave the other in peace. I have to kill him.

My stomach lurches at the thought, but he is already in position to strike again. I dart to the side, the trident slicing through my vest. Stuffing is all I've lost, but it's a grim reminder of the stakes. And not just mine.

I dart in under his next swing, landing a blow to his side. He grunts, spinning around. His cloak knocks me off balance and I fall to the flowerbed. Something jams into my back, something small and hard. Grabbing it, I hold it up, hoping it's an extra weapon of some kind.

A blue heart pulses softly inside a crystalline cylinder, and I freeze. For a moment, nothing else exists except that small blue heart. But there is another cylinder under my leg, and I tilt it up with my foot. Its contents are an unmistakable shade of purple.

I curl my only remaining arm around both jars, hugging them close to my chest. I'm too late. Too late to warn Lewis that I'm not myself, watching him plummet over the cliff's edge all over again. Too late to tell Vivi I'm sorry, I'll stop being such a coward. Too late to grow a spine and tell Lewis enough is enough, that we have to find some resolution for Vivi's sake, if not mine. Too late, too late. And now, Lewis will never forgive me and Vivi is gone.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, rocking the jars. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," the King murmurs behind me. Three holes drill through me. My lung, my spine, my intestines. The jars fall from my arm. I can't think and I can't breathe. I can only gape and twitch like a beached fish, staring up at the painted ceiling. A swift jerk, and I am freed to fall among the flowers. I am at eye level with what is left of my friends as darkness crowds my vision.

I failed.

….

He is on his hands and knees. He looks like himself, if faintly transparent, but thick brambles bind him from wrists to shoulders and down his back and legs. Every movement grinds them through his outer membrane, so he holds still. He looks for all the world like a penitent supplicant, or a prisoner brought to execution.

"I faaaailed," he repeats, his words wheezing terribly past three gaping holes in his torso.

Lewis also sees and takes a step back. His skeletal appearance flickers, briefly revealing a stricken human expression. He has never actually seen Arthur suffer before.

"It's one thing to wish it. It's another to see, isn't it, Lewis?" I drop my head to nuzzle Arthur, but the thorns tear at my snout. They are all too real. Can a ghost feel pain?

"I faaaaaaailed," Arthur moans. "Tooooo weak. Lewisssssss gone. Viviiiiii gone. Toooo late."

Regret, a ghost's strongest anchor to this world. Stronger, even, than vengeance. It tightens itself around him with every word he speaks, burying roots deep in the earth. Vivi darts down to him, taking his face in her hands.

"Arthur, don't you dare! Nobody made me go on ahead, it was me! Arthur Kingsmen, you are not responsible for my death!"

A grin hangs crooked on Arthur's face, the sort of smile that is a last ditch attempt to keep from breaking down. "So you can seeee the sins. I feel them crawling up my baaaack." He licks his lips, wheezing, "They say. They say. They say to me. Failuuuure. Muuuurderer."

There is nothing I can do for Arthur. I have no claim to this pain, no words to ease it. The act was not against me. I turn to Lewis.

It has been too long since I have seen the boy like this. He stands in his traditional outfit; purple pants, a smart white shirt, purple vest, purple ascot. Aghast is the only fit word to describe his face, and I feel a twinge of satisfaction.

"Snap out of it!" Vivi shakes Arthur, but his regrets spike out, repelling her.

A bramble winds itself up Arthur's face, tearing through ghostly membrane to reveal a skeletal grin. "Ssssssory, Vivi." His outlines tremble with fear. "Y-you should g-go ooonnn without me. I don't think I'll be p-passing on with you anytime sooooon." He stares past her to Lewis, his grin cranking wider. "You're f-free. Gooooooo."

I dearly want to ask if Lewis feels the weight of his own sins, but I hold my tongue and my breath together. Arthur is mistaken, and whether any of them can pass on or not hinges on Lewis now.

Lewis approaches slowly, crushing burnt grass to powder under his black shoes. He stands in front of Arthur, who grins up at him. Brambles line either side of his face now, and there is more bone than face. "Now you can ressssst in peace," Arthur gasps, the sound whistling through the holes in his torso. "Justice sssssserved."

"Where did you get these?" Lewis' voice cracks. "These aren't yours. Not all of them."

Arthur's laugh is empty. "Asssriel needed a window… somebody had… to take… these..."

Lewis falls to his knees in front of Arthur, who gasps out, "What… better person… than the weakest… link…"

Lewis' fingers curl around the brambles, prying them away from Arthur's face. They writhe against his grip, but his palms light with pink flame, reducing the brambles to ash as he unwinds each branch. The last few wind themselves through the holes in Arthur's torso, wrenching pained cries from him.

"D-don't!" He hisses. "It-t'll get worse..."

Ignoring him, Lewis grabs a branch right by the first hole, his face twisting as he manages, "You're not weak."

Arthur looks up at him, holding perfectly still.

"This… this isn't weak." He tugs carefully. Arthur chokes, but the brambles slide out of the first hole. The branches through the second and third hole won't budge. "These ones are yours, aren't they?" Arthur's form shudders, and Lewis bows his head. "What are their names?"

"Envyyyy," slithers from his lips, his fingers digging into the ground. "Muuuurder."

Lewis' hand moves to the second bramble. "You're lying. It's not murder."

"Murrrrrrder."

"It's not. And you know it. You've been telling me all along-"

"Murrrder!" Arthur cries, finally breaking his stillness to struggle to his feet. "Murrrrderrrer!"

Vivi clings to my leg, and I know it is more to restrain herself than for comfort.

Lewis grabbed Arthur by the shoulders, searching his shredded face. "How many times did you apologize to me?"

Arthur looks away, but Lewis shakes him. "How many?"

"Sixty-three," he rasps. "Forty sssssseven to youuuu. Fifteeeeeen over your graaaaave. Onnnnnnnnnnce in the cave."

It is difficult to keep from snarling, "I told you so!" in Lewis' face. I have seen Arthur grovel so many times that even hearing him recount the number is painful. It isn't as though Lewis never heard him, but I can see him going back over every one of those forty seven apologies in his mind as if hearing each differently.

Lewis' face crumples and he nearly crushes Arthur's soul in embrace. "Not murder." Lewis holds him tight. "What is it?"

"Ssssshaammme," Arthur groans as it twists in the holes.

My ears flatten. "That isn't even a sin. That is nothing more than an anchor holding you here."

Lewis groans, "I didn't want to see it. I'm sorry, Arthur. Please let it go."

Arthur's head lifted to stare at Lewis. "Forgive…. meeee?"

"Yes. I forgive you."

The edges of Arthur's form glint brighter, the remaining brambles shriveling to dust. His face knits back together, as do other torn parts of his outer form. His arms wrap around Lewis, returning the hug with uncharacteristic fierceness. Vivi leaves my leg to embrace the both of them.

I lay down, resting my chin on my forepaws. Many months have passed since I was privy to such a scene, but it brings with it bitter pangs. Lewis has chosen well, and now their ties to this plane are cut. It is only a matter of time now...