Disclaimer: Swiwell? Rowift? (Why is spell check not underlining the second one?)

SIMON

I think the Mage might want my magic.

I've spent my whole adolescence—half my life, really—doing what he's told me. (Well, except for recently, when he stopped telling me things and I started trusting Baz.) But he's wrong about this. I can't give my magic to the Mage, because I have to give it to the Humdrum. Baz was wrong; sometimes holes just want to be filled.

My heart aches, because what the Mage said about me not being the Chosen One made so much sense, and now I have to ignore it. Maybe I'm not the Chosen One. Maybe there is no Chosen One. But I'm the one with the illicit magic, the one who's stealing power from everywhere, so I'm the one who has to make this right. Chosen One or not, this is my job.

I pour my magic into the Humdrum and pour and pour and pour until there's nothing left. I'm dimly aware of noise and light around me, and even more dimly aware of pressure on my chest as the Mage tries to shove me away from the Humdrum, but I don't pay attention to any of it. I just keep focusing on giving my magic away.

It's not enough. It is for the Humdrum—he's gone—but the Mage still wants my power, which no longer exists. He keeps yelling, "Give it to me!"

I can't make him stop until Penny shouts, "Simon says!"

Then I say, "Stop it, stop hurting me!" and I can hear the magic in my voice. It sounds different than it ever has before, which makes sense, since I'm using Penny's power rather than my own. My voice sounds a little like the Mage's.

The Mage falls into Baz's arms. (No fair—I want to be the one doing that.) And then, slowly, I realize that the Mage is dead. I ask why he's dead and Penny suggests that dying may have been the only way he could stop hurting me. He only got what he was trying to give, maybe. I cry anyway. I'm bleeding everywhere, and I have Ebb's blood on me too, and the Mage is dead, and I just gave the Humdrum all my magic, and I'm exhausted. I cry and cry.

It's not until months later that my therapist convinces me that I did all I could and have nothing to feel guilty about.