(Author's note: Different POV this chapter! Also final chapter! And I think I accidentally made a sad ending? I'd written another chapter after this one, but I think it ends better just stopping it here, so… last chapter. This one was harder to write since it was in a different POV, and it was later in the books, but I hope it's still good.)

Bobby.

I found your journal shortly after you left Ibara, presumably chasing after me, and I'm sure that you won't mind that I kept it. You made it incredibly clear that you were done with it, so I took the liberty of skimming through the pages. And I can say it's quite the intriguing read, Bobby. ALmost as entertaining as the journals you send to your acolytes.

There are a few things, however, that I feel the need to correct. Rather, there's one specific thing.

I didn't lie to you on the beach. It wasn't some type of clever ruse meant to gain your trust and lower your defenses. It wasn't a planned strategy, or even something that I'd intended. I meant every word that I said, and that kiss was real. It was the genuine article, believe me, and I can tell from these journals that you were just as genuine.

You may never find these journals. You may never see this fragile confession of a proud man. I have no doubt that you're going to be my death, and once I'm gone Press will most likely set everything back to how it was before. Whether he lets you read this, or even whether he lets you remember, is debateable.

But if I'm going to die, Bobby, there's something I have to tell you. Something I need to say, even if you never hear it.

I love you. It sounds cliche and ridiculous, but I genuinely and truly do love you. I'm not sure when it started-probably with Andy, with watching you grow and change and mature, growing with you as a peer. Kind, clever, athletic Bobby Pendragon, with his million dollar smile and transparent infatuation with Courtney Chetwynde.

I never saw what you saw in that girl. She was a generic, bland airhead, yet she stole your heart the moment you first saw her. I tried to understand her appeal, but every moment spent in her presence was infuriatingly simplistic. When you returned to Second Earth, did she tell you about Whitney, I wonder? I tried to kill her, you know-threw her off of a cliff and left her at the bottom. But for some reason, I felt almost guilty for it. I saved her, saved the girl I loathed so that the boy-no, you're a man now-the man I loved could be happy.

I'm running out of time now, Bobby. They think you died on Second Earth, but we know better, don't we? You probably know about Solara now, about the true origin of the Travelers. And now you're coming here, infiltrating the Ravinian streets to defeat me once and for all.

You'll be the death of me. And I'll be waiting.

With love,

Saint Dane.