Oh my goodness.

It's the last chapter.

This is going to be the final rollercoaster, so buckle up for one hell of a finale!

"… When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?

Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you …"

- Fix You by Coldplay -

My dreams are abstract, but for once I don't complain. Instead, I strive forwards through the nightmare-mist, and take Loren's hand. His face lights up with a smile that melts my heart.

And together, we ascend.

Gently, I am whispered back to reality, my eyes fluttering open to Svenya stooped beside me. Her hand is cupped to my ear, and she pauses halfway through her murmuring and nods at me. That is all we need. No more. I stir and rise to my feet. No staggering. No stumbles. Noislessly, we pack away the makeshift beds into Svenya's small rucksack, and I scatter the charcoal around the camp to disturb our scent. The wolves have delicate senses.
I pause, and glance over at Svenya before stepping from our camp. Her eyes are glazed, both with disbelief and unnerve

"You lead the way," murmurs Svenya, gesturing mildly with her hand. I bow my head, and together we tread softly through the forest.

Slender conifers grasp at the sky, branches splayed like windblown thread. I have seen too much of life to poke fun at something like that. We have seen too much. Maybe another version of myself would have mocked this, mocked everything, but the me now cannot. A younger Ann would never have understood Svenya's silence, her cynical aspect of life at such a young age, but I can. And it's a shame that she's grown with a burden like that on her soul.
I wish she ascends. I wish that her spirit will be cleansed, someday.
If ever.
My eyes wander off to the heavens and I reflect. The sky is blue, and tranquil. There is no emotion, just utter peace and serenity. A beautiful bluebell lagoon. Blue used to be my favourite colour. It was the colour of my mother's wedding dress, a forget-me-not gown. It was the colour of my father's eyes, a calm teal ocean. It was the colour of my brother's toy boat, one that I made sail the Seven Seas, and one that he made sink on collision with my rubber-duck. It was the colour of my first love. And it was my first love that I will always regret.

Now, my favourite colour is green.

I step smoothly over a disoriented root, and guide Svenya over it too. She's lost within the midst of her imagination. I wonder what she's thinking of? Is she fantasising her reunion with the long-lost brother she left everything behind for? Will she jump up into his arms, and grow back into the baby he once held? Or will he scoop her up, and will they stay in their embrace forever? Will they gaze at each other for the longest of times, with the realisation dawning upon them that their eyes are the same, that they are both Stones?
Or will I be the one first granted entry to his loving hold?

The rock-face looms finally into view. I really had been blind with despair when I launched myself from it: even now, the clashing of the rapids forces Svenya out of her thoughts. I survey the cliff from all angles: how can we scale this thing. I dare a glance back at Svenya, but she's looking at me expectantly, and I can't let her down. Not here, not now.
My hands reach out to meet the cold stone, but come away quickly as the rock disintergrates in my weak grasp. Shale. Impossible to climb. I study it for two more minutes before waving my arm and walking West of it.

"If we go far enough," I explain to Svenya, ducking under a low branch, "We should come to the edge of the hill. It'll be a longer walk to Loren, but there's no way we can climb up that rockface. It's shale."

"What's shale?" asks Svenya, her voice crackling from disuse, and she coughs to clear her throat. This must be the first thing she's said in twenty-four hours, aside the whispers in my ear to wake me up.

"Shale is a really crumbly kind of rock … it's a sedimentary, actually. You know how the cliff's made up of layers? Well, that's what sedimentary rock is: lots of layers of rock squished on top of each other."

Svenya pouts.

"But what about the one on the bottom? Wouldn't they get really … squashed?"

I laugh, out loud, the first laugh I've shared with someone for three weeks – from what Svenya says, I've been unconscious for two of them. A child. An innocent, small child. She needs a break. She needs a friend.
She needs her family.
I drive on, pushing forwards until the edge is in sight; like I said, we can jump up onto the ledge, and then we'll just have to walk up the hill and through the forest to the camp.

Suddenly, I'm hit by a mortifying thought.

What if … they moved base?

I have to tell Svenya. That's it, end of. She has to know this, she can't have her hopes crushed like this.

"Svenya …" I start weakly, fingers trembling as I haul myself onto the ledge, "I've just realised … they might have moved the camp. I don't … well, I don't know if …"

"How good were your relationships with this group?" Svenya asks with such sharpness that I'm taken aback.

"Uh … good, I guess – I mean, we were friends … most of us, at least. But … yeah … I mean-"

"Then they won't have moved, right? If there were friends in that group, they will have stayed on to look for you. See what I mean?" she says, ending the conversation with a brutal note of finality.

I blink. It's not the best explanation, but there's no telling her now. She's stubborn.

We continue until the edge of the cliff.
Will Loren be looking for me? Will he be searching through the forests, risking the wolves and bears? Will he be venturing down into far-off villages, asking desperately amongst the townspeople for clues? Or will he be waiting anxiously outside my tent, awaiting my arrival, knowing that I will return? Knowing that I will always return?

Because I will. I will always return.

Was it chance that I survived suicide? Was it fate? Or was it something more … like my soul knew that our destinies were intertwined, and the Gods couldn't let it end like this.

And I would become a million Eagles to just say … to just say thank-you. Thank-you for giving us one more chance.

I quicken my pace, persevering through the tall, thick grass rather than going around it. From the corner of my peripheral vision, I notice Svenya's raised eyebrows, but she doesn't complain. We trudge through the marshy ground until we reach the camp.
What used to be the camp.
Wind blows through the yellowed grass, the dead sward marking where the various tents had been pitched, and a large ring of blackened stone filled with charcoal confirms the long-dead fireplace. I gaze around, in utter disbelief, as the realisation flows into me …

… They've moved on.

The Gods are playing with our hearts.

Svenya edges gingerly around the borders of the camp, scanning everything for footprints, for clues. I just stare uselessly at where my tent used to be. Now, there's just a large stone in the middle, where the floor of the tent was held down with in strong gusts. I float over to it, my face on the fine line between laughing and crying. A stone. That is all that is left.
Is this some kind of sick joke?
Or is it … to symbolise Loren Stone?
I walk around the back of it, noticing the flap of paper in the breeze beneath the stone. Great. It's weighing down a message. What a surprise.
Mustering all that's left in my limp body, I manage to push it over and watch as it rolls away. I pluck the note from underneath and read it.

Ann,

This is in case you do ever return. We looked for you for a whole week, but we couldn't stay here forever. Everyone wanted to stay, but there's new of movement in the Silver Order, and we had to go.

But Loren still

My heart skips a beat as I pore over the last sentence: Loren still waits for you? Loren still loves you? … Loren still hates you?

But of course, that part of the message is ripped off. I finger the edge, and my hand comes back faintly smelling of lager.

Jace.

My eyes focus and refocus on nothing that matters. I nod, twice, three times, before swaying to my feet. I force the bile back down my throat and throw a gaze to Svenya.

She nods, twice, three times, and I smile.

This is okay.

My feet join with the footprints already indented on the grass. This must have been my track, from two weeks ago. I must have run on heavily. Now, I run on heavier.

Oh, the joy to be me. They've moved on, and that's that. Loren still … Loren still what? I want to cry, but make do with punching the ground even as I move. I need to rip out something.

When I get to THE SPOT, there's someone already there. I don't notice, because I'm hallucinating now. The person keeps melting, and swirling, and I can't even tell their head from their feet. I open my mouth to tell them to move, but nothing comes out. Not a rasp, not anything.

'Move, please,' I think desperately, as if I can use telekinesis to contact them, 'Or you'll come off the cliff with me.'

But they don't shift. Can they see me? No. Through the hazy dots flickering in front of my eyes, I can make out them patting the earth on top of something that vaguely resembles a flower. It vaguely resembles the flower.

"M-Move, plea ... please," I choke, voice finally coming to me, "O…Or you'll c-c-come off the c-cliff with … with me."

They turn around, but I can't see anymore, I can't even see their face. I don't know if they're Jace or Tillie.

"Ann?" they murmur, and I know that it's a man.

I start at the sound of my own name on his lips. Somehow, it just sounds so right when he says it. I realise that he's said it before.

"W-Who …?" I begin, but I already know who he his.

Loren really did wait for me.

A young man sat hunched on his bed, a few miles North of a once prosperous Eagle's den. He had the second half of a ripped note, clenched in his tight, sweaty hands. His room smells of whisky, and so does he. He runs a hand through his damp blond hair, and stares at the message.

' - loves you, Ann. Jace fessed up to everything in his sleep; he was drunken, Ann. He didn't know his left from his right. I hope you realise this. You're a lucky woman! You have two sexy men under your charm! I just have the one, but I still think I'm pretty amazing for that sake. I don't think Jace caused you any real harm, anyway. We won't forget, you won't, and he won't, either. It's just, please don't hate him. When he's sober, he's a nice enough guy as it gets. You knew that, once upon a time.

But, I wish you the best of luck, girl! You go! Loren said he would wait for you forever, and he should be in either the forest, or by the waterfall. Where did you go, by the way? To the village, or elsewhere?

You probably won't ever get this, not with Loren seeing you like that. It's okay, Ann, none of this was your fault. You've undergone waaay too much hardship. But, just for the record, I think you're incredible. And so does Loren.

Love, Tillie xx '

His fists tighten, and coiling inwards into a fetal curl, he begins to cry.

The man staggers to his feet, and I can just see him pinching the bridge of his nose like he's in pain. He sways closer to me, and his features begin to come into view.

"No. No, it … it can't be you …" he sighs.

Then he clasps the sides of my face in his hands, gently. Softly, he brushes my cheek with his thumb. His skin is weathered, but tender. I have felt the touch of these hands before. A single tear descends down my chin in a silver, delicate trickle. He strokes it away.

"Slave," I whisper, cupping his strong features in my hands as well. Our arms interlock.

"My lady," he smiles in return.

Gradually, the pain ebbs away with the rest of my senses. I bury my face in his shirt, on the verge of disintegrating. It can't be real. True love … wouldn't come to someone like me. This can only happen in a dream.
Loren moves his hand to the nape of my neck, his fingertips sidling across the scars that whips have painted. The pain is long gone, but for a second I have a flashback:

Ripping.

Tearing.

Scarring.

Wounding.

I wince, and nestle my head further into his chest. He strokes my hair.

"I will fix you," he ushers into my ear, "I will wash away … all the pain."

"You're like my mother."

We move slowly into each other. Loren eases my face into the sunlight. Daylight opens my eyes, and I find myself gazing right into his. I have missed that level regard.
We were made for each other.
Are we about to kiss? I don't know. All I know is, the Gods have shaped us from the earth, from the clay, from life. My heart has been carved from the hardest of stones, but Loren's has been cast from gold. Molten, burning, passionate gold. He is the only one in all of Arunia who can win my love.

And just as we press our lips together, Svenya jumps between us, and that is the end of THAT romantic moment.

THANKS TO:

Everyone! The whole WORLD is amazing right now, but in particular:

Chloe (ButterTARDIS36)

Lucinda (Lucinda M. H. Cheshir)

Wolfie (Wolfie1236)

DisneyPotterPython

And Daisy (Daisiea) and her sister Taryn. Guys, thanks for still choosing to be my friend EVEN after reading chapter 17 … Daisy, didn't I distinctly tell you NOT to read that?!

Also, thanks to:

Momo-Kuma

bandrose11

and mbabson!

These were the secret Favs/Followers, so cheers!

**The sequel is called The Search for Paradise, and it is under Minecraft – please check it out! I'll just tell you a BIT of it; the main character is Loreann's daughter! Check it! It will probably be released on the 14th – 15th of March, so stay tuned! And yes, Loreann will play a VERY big role on it. This is based on Chloe's idea.

Love from Lucy xxx – I wouldn't be alive on FanFiction without this story!

… Now let's end it before things get SERIOUSLY cheesy …