Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Eyes fluttered open, peering out into endless darkness from beneath a lonely column of azure light. Even if he couldn't see it, Lucas knew the Dragon could see him. The relentless beating of its heart sounded more and more like the Cross Road bell. Or perhaps it was the other way around.
"Hey, um . . ." Words failed him. Where to begin? Was the Dragon a stranger or an old friend? He couldn't tell anymore. "Do you like stories?"
The Dragon didn't answer; Lucas hadn't really expected it to. He was already slipping his backpack down into his hand. It was unwieldy, weighed down by Dr. Andonuts's supplies and whatever he'd scrounged from around the house, but one of those things was exactly what he needed. Reaching inside, he pulled out the old book and let the rest drop.
"My mom used to read this to me when I was little," he explained wistfully. "It was my favorite."
His fingers brushed over the surface of the children's book in his hands, its cover harkening back to another lifetime. He slid a digit into the pages, hearing the creak of a spine that had gone unbent for too long. It smelled musty from its years tucked into a bookshelf, but that only masked an older scent, something that Lucas couldn't put a name to which conjured long-misplaced memories. He and Claus curled up in their mother's lap, the rocking chair in front of the fireplace, her voice meandering through the words on the page as one might through a well-worn trail. Claus always fell asleep first. The black-and-white pictures adorning each page were etched so deep into Lucas's mind that not one stroke surprised him, even so long after he'd last set eyes on them.
Lucas sat down beside his bag with his legs crisscrossed and the tome resting in his lap. Dim though it was, the light streaming down from above was enough to read by. He was no Magypsy. He didn't know the first thing about making Needles, but he knew himself. He knew the heart he and the Dragon shared. If this story would ease him to sleep, then perhaps it would work on the Dragon, too.
"Long, long ago," Lucas began, reading the words below a picture of three men on a cobblestone road, "in a land far, far away, there lived three travelers."
The ever-present heartbeat relaxed under the caress of Lucas's words. It grew quieter, as if not wanting to interrupt.
"They had journeyed far across the land, from sea to sea and mountain to valley." Lucas turned the page, not that he needed to in order to recite the next line. "After one especially long day of walking, they were all exhausted. Their feet were sore, their clothes stank, and their bellies were empty."
Lucas could have sworn there was something in the darkness which hadn't been there before, taking shape just beyond his sight. The faintly reflected light caught traces of grass, trees, rolling hills and rough-hewn paths. A gentle breeze carrying the rustic scent of autumn all but confirmed his suspicions. Instead of alarming him though, it only made it easier to sink into the page.
"Happening upon a village, they approached the first house they saw in hope of finding food or a place to stay for the evening. They had come to rely on the good people of hamlets like this one, and were always sure to repay any kindness they received."
The heartbeat continued to fade, hiding behind chirping birds, bleating sheep, and buzzing bees. The unseen hills around him were now dotted with quaint little thatched-roof cottages, complete with smoking chimneys, tiny gardens, and picket fences.
"The villager did not trust the travelers, however, and said that he was poor and had no food to share. They thanked him all the same, and continued on to the next house. The second villager too claimed to have not even a crumb to spare. And so they went from door to door, only to be sent away each time."
Turning the page was becoming a little ritual of its own. It was a chance to catch his breath and let the words sink in. The quick, clipped sentences were there just long enough to soak in the pictures they accompanied when read aloud at a languid pace befitting a bedtime story.
"The travelers soon grew worried. Not a single person in the whole village had offered them as much as a crust of bread. The first of them feared that the poor villagers would suffer terribly from hunger. The second, however, had noticed their fat bellies and chubby cheeks, and told the other two that they would find no charity among such selfish people. The third and cleverest of the travelers was neither afraid nor angry though, for he had a plan."
Safe. He felt safe. It was a weird thought to have in the most alien place he'd ever been, but it was true all the same. Had he been curled up in a blanket in front of the hearth, hot cocoa in hand, he couldn't have felt any more secure.
"He sent the first traveler down to the river to fill their big, black cooking pot with water. He told the second to build a large fire in the center of the town square where everyone could see. He himself went off in search of a single large stone."
Lucas could swear the imaginary town was growing livelier by the second. The scent became richer, more layered – a fine fragrance of damp cobblestones and mud, with undertones of kindling, cattle and assorted hints of humanity. There were whispered conversations, a babbling brook, and barking dogs to fill out the picture.
Except that the barking was getting more insistent.
"Woof! (Lucas!)"
With one bark, the spell was broken. The hills, the village, and all the associated sounds and smells were snuffed out like a candle, leaving only the impregnable darkness, a pillar of blue light, and Boney.
Lucas caught the charging dog in his arms, dropping the book. "Boney!" he called out. "Boy am I glad to see you!"
Boney was a flurry of licks and tail wags, practically mauling his master with affection. Had it been a human hug, Lucas would have been gasping for air.
"I think the feeling's mutual."
At the sound of his brother's voice, Lucas gave a relieved smile that quickly evaporated into wide-eyed horror. He blanched upon seeing Claus's bloodstained shirt as the redhead sauntered over, leaning on Fuel's shoulder for support.
"Claus!" Lucas shouted, leaping up like he was shot from a catapult.
"Ah!" Claus shrank back before Lucas had even touched him.
Fuel braced himself. "Take it easy," he murmured. "I gotcha."
Lucas squirmed in place, unsure what to do with his hands as he frantically looked over the nasty cut on his brother's arm. "What happened?!"
"I just had a little accident is all."
"He was doing something dumb," said Fuel. "No surprise there."
"It looks worse than it feels," Claus fired back, more at Fuel than his frantic twin.
"It looks terrible!" Lucas pointed out.
Claus smiled sheepishly. "Well it doesn't feel all that great, either," he confessed.
"He was bein' a big baby this whole time. Practically needed me to hold his hand for him."
"I wasn't THAT bad. Besides, you weren't complaining."
Fuel looked away innocently. "You're just lucky I came along when I did."
"Thanks for watching out for him." Lucas waved his brother closer. "Let me see it."
Claus obliged even as he smiled at Fuel. "I guess I am."
Lucas gingerly held onto Claus's wrist to get a better look at the cut. Hoping to ease his tension, and perhaps satisfy his curiosity, he asked, "How'd you get here anyway, Fuel?"
"Good question. I just sorta woke up here."
"A lot of people did," Claus added.
"Is anyone else hurt?"
"Dad's a little banged up. Mom's taking care of him though. They said they'd catch up when they could."
Unsure if he should be relieved or even more stressed, Lucas refocused on the wound. To his surprise, it was already showing signs of healing. "It's not bleeding anymore," he noted. "Did you do that?"
"Yeah," Claus chuckled proudly. "I'm sure you could've done way better."
Lucas was genuinely impressed. "You did great, actually. Especially for working on yourself."
"Thanks," Claus beamed, "but I was hoping an expert could handle the rest."
"Hold still." Lucas supported his brother's arm with one hand and held the other a few inches over the cut, too nervous to touch it but covering the grisly injury even so.
"Should I, um, do anything?" Fuel's face had turned ever so slightly green.
"Actually, yeah," said Lucas. "Could you keep an eye on Boney? I don't want him wandering around on his own."
The dog was safely sniffing around the edge of the circle of light, but Fuel was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Sure!" he agreed before checking on Claus one more time. "You gonna be okay?"
"Don't worry. I'm in good hands."
Fuel nodded and stepped away. "Alright."
As the brunette walked over to Boney, Claus turned to his brother and whispered, "So what's with the book?"
"I was trying something." A green light pulsed under Lucas's hand. "Remember Kumatora's plan?"
"You were trying to put the Dragon back to sleep?"
"Mm-hmm." Claus didn't say a thing. Judging from his set jaw and furrowed brow, though, Lucas could tell he wasn't happy. "What?"
"This plan stinks."
"But I thought—"
"I know." Even Claus had a hard time believing the words coming out of his mouth. It had been an enlightening day for him, though. "I guess you could say I've had a change of heart or somethin'."
Doubts swam around Lucas's mind. After coming so far, Claus wanted him to turn back now? "But why?"
"Because sealing the Dragon away won't fix anything."
Lucas's grip faltered. "It might."
"Things would only go back to how they used to be," Claus explained.
"Exactly."
Claus didn't respond for a few seconds. He could understand where his brother was coming from, but the way Lucas said it was a splash of cold water all the same. "Is that really what you want? To take one giant step backwards?"
"What I want is to set everyone free, Claus."
"What're you talking about?"
Lucas kept his eyes down, pretending to focus on healing his brother's arm. He could feel Claus's gaze boring into him from above. "I messed up. Bad." The admission hung in his throat like a pendulum in an old clock. "When I passed my heart on to the Dragon I thought I was saving the world, but . . . I guess my heart was broken, 'cause instead the Dragon trapped everyone here, took away their memories, and made them live out my version of happiness."
"Lucas . . ."
"That's why I gotta do this. I need to do better."
"Look at me, Lucas." Reluctantly, he did. He'd expected disappointment to be written all over his brother's face, but there was none to be had; only a deep exhaustion that even the day's harrowing events couldn't explain. "You can't spend your whole life regretting one stupid mistake. Trust me; I'd know."
"But—"
"No buts. No more feeling guilty." Claus reached up and laid his hand atop his brother's. "Whatever you did, I forgive you."
Lucas looked down again and smiled. He'd finished healing Claus, but tarried there just a moment longer. "So then what do we do?"
"We go forward. I don't know what'll happen, or if I'll even get to see it, but I'm okay with that. That's how life's supposed to be." He gave a halfhearted chuckle that Lucas saw straight past. "Sure, it's a little scary, but it's exciting, too. I want to live, Lucas. Really live."
"Me too," the blonde agreed. "That just leaves the Dragon . . ."
"We could try making it our new friend," Claus suggested as a joke.
It was enough to get a giggle from his brother. "Way ahead of you. I'm not so sure it worked."
A commanding voice broke through the darkness at their backs. "So try something else."
Lucas spun, his eyes shining. "Kumatora!"
The princess strolled out of the darkness and into the column of light with Duster at her side. "Take it from me, kid: you're gonna go down a lot of dead-ends before you find the right path. But as long as you keep on lookin', you'll find your way sooner or later."
"Sorry we're late." Duster smiled at the three boys and Boney, relieved to see them (mostly) unharmed. "I'd say we had a rough time getting here, but it looks like we weren't the only ones. What happened, Claus?"
The boy gave him a toothy grin. "Almost died again. No big deal."
"Just another day in the life, huh?" Kumatora asked with a smirk. "Y'know, I'm startin' to think the helmet was a good idea."
Claus laughed. She wasn't wrong, but had overlooked one key issue. "The hat hair is NOT worth it."
Even if he wasn't on board with joking about his brother's brushes with death, Lucas had to smile all the same at seeing everyone back together.
"Now then," said Kumatora, "whaddya say we finish up and go home?"
"I'd love to. Got any idea how to do that?" Claus asked.
"It sounds like the plan we had is off the table," Duster surmised, "so I guess we're back to square one."
"Not exactly." It was Lucas, looking surprisingly pleased with himself. "It's hard to explain but . . . I don't think the Dragon's our enemy."
Fuel scoffed upon rejoining the conversation. "Try telling that to the guy who almost killed us."
"That wasn't the Dragon," said Claus. "I'm with Lucas; if the Dragon wanted to hurt us we'd know it."
"Well then, what DOES it want?" Kumatora's question was tinged with equal parts impatience and curiosity.
Lucas spread his arms out. "It wants this. It wants the world it made. It's happy here."
"So let's change its mind," Duster suggested. "Talk to it. If it's got your heart it'll feel the same as you."
Lucas's face fell. "But that's the problem: I'm happy here too. I know this has to end, but I don't want it to."
The averted eyes all around him said what their mouths could not: he wasn't alone in that. A life without loss in it was a hard thing to give up, especially when there was so much joy in its place.
"I know the feeling." Claus alone spoke up. "It's hard to let go of what you've got. Can I admit something?"
Fuel nodded. "Of course."
"This might sound kinda messed up – and it is – but back when I was Porky's robot, I just wanted things to stay the way they were. I'd have killed to keep on being the Commander." Claus locked eyes with Lucas, and his expression softened. "And then I remembered who I was. I've never been happier in my life. Or sadder." He paused to reflect on that moment and all of the feelings that came with it. He hadn't known how to process it all back then; he still wasn't sure he could. "So trust me when I tell you that the best happiness comes from being free. Isn't that what you want, Lucas? For everyone to go free?"
There was only one answer. "Yeah."
"Well then, that includes the Dragon," Claus concluded. "We gotta set it free."
"But how?" asked Lucas. "We already pulled the Needles. We woke it up. What's left? What's keeping it here?"
No one said a thing, but Lucas felt their eyes settle on him. The truth was staring him in the face all along, from the very thing he'd passed on. His heart, swollen with a concoction of love and fear, had made the world into what it was, and made it impossible for the Dragon to let go.
Kumatora slung an arm over Lucas's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, kid. You've had a change of heart, so the Dragon can do the same."
"If anyone can convince it, it'd be you," Claus assured his twin. "Though I gotta admit, yanking a Needle out of the ground sure was a lot simpler."
"No kidding," Lucas laughed nervously. "What should I do?"
"Just talk to it," Duster suggested. "I'd wager it's listening."
"Probably has been since we got here," said Kumatora.
"So it's, like, watching us?" Fuel asked.
"Woof. (Spooky.)"
Claus gave Lucas a gentle nudge. "Go on. You can do it."
Lucas nodded. Once again, the world rested on his shoulders. He could only pray he'd do better this time around.
Looking up into the void, he raised his voice and spoke. "H-hello? Mister, er, Miss . . . Misses?" His eyes darted to his companions quickly, but their shrugs proved their own ignorance of how to start. "Um, Dragon, if that's okay. Or do you prefer 'Dark Dragon'? The full name makes a little more sense looking around at all the, uh, darkness you've got here. It's . . . nice?"
"Smooth," Kumatora groaned.
Lucas deflated a bit at that, but pushed on ahead. "We need you to stop what you're doing. This world you've made is great, and I'm so, so glad you brought my mom and brother back, but we can't live like this. People, I mean."
"Yeah!" Claus cut in, stepping up to his brother's side. "We need to be free! Free to make mistakes, to get hurt, to lose the things we love; but also free to love in the first place, to grow and learn and figure out who we really are!"
A smile crept across Lucas's face. His brother's enthusiasm was infectious. "Happiness means something different to everybody. That's why you can't just make someone happy; they have to find it for themselves. We all deserve the chance to do that."
"And so do you! You don't have to stay here. You don't need to listen to the first person who wakes you up. There's a whole universe out there. Go out and live in it!"
Both boys fell silent, hoping for any sort of response from the darkness. It didn't seem to be coming.
"So . . . now what?" asked Claus.
Lucas squared his shoulders and clenched his fists. "Hey!" The vast expanse beyond their small circle of light consumed the word and any trace of its echo. "We pulled the Needles – me and Claus. That means you're supposed to listen to us. So listen!" Unaccustomed to such an outburst, Lucas was practically shaking with each word. "We don't want you to change the world, or save it, or destroy it, or any of that stuff. We just want you to put it back to the way it's meant to be."
Impressed with his brother's fervor, Claus could only stand back and watch. Lucas was so passionate; he'd changed a lot from the coddled boy of his youth. But at the same time, that tenderness never left him.
"I know it's a lot to ask," Lucas continued, "but you're the only one who can do it. If you don't have the power, then say so. If you want something, just tell us. And if you're scared then . . . then that's okay." His voice wavered slightly. Part of him wanted to stop, but he knew it was too late to hold back now. "It's okay to be scared. I'm scared too! Life won't always turn out like you hope. You can end up losing things, and you either learn to go on without them, or . . . or you let them destroy you." He shut his eyes and swallowed, thinking of his dad and brother. "The people you love – the ones you welcome into your heart – they become part of it, part of YOU. And when someone you care about goes away, it leaves a hole where they were. A dark, aching hole in your heart that feels like it'll never heal. But that hole isn't the person you loved." It had taken Lucas a long time to appreciate that. For years, the holes in his heart were all he had left of his family. "It's okay to let go of that pain. It'll get better someday, and when it does you'll realize that once you've welcomed someone in, they never really leave. They're with you forever."
The space went quiet again, save for the constant thrum of the Dragon's heartbeat. Lucas hung his head and held his breath, praying he'd been heard.
All he received was his brother's hand on his shoulder. "Lucas?" The blonde didn't answer. "Look."
He finally did, and what he saw nearly bowled him over. In the center of the column of light, piercing the featureless ground, was the eighth and final Needle. While it resembled the others, it lacked their familiar golden glow. The normally ethereal ornamentation was wrought of iron instead, its icy exterior looking grim in the blue light.
Claus sighed. "I'll never get used to this place."
"You and me both," Duster grunted.
"Is it cool if I just pretend this is a dream?" Fuel wondered.
Rubbing her sore neck, Kumatora was willing to go along with anything by that point. "Whatever floats yer boat, kid."
After staring for a long moment, Lucas finally swallowed his surprise. "What were you were saying about Needles being simpler, Claus?"
Smirking, the redhead said, "I'll take what I can get."
"Do you want to or should I?"
"The honor's all yours. Just don't mess it up." At that, Claus reached up and tousled his brother's hair.
Lucas batted the hand away with a chuckle. That little bit of relief was exactly what he needed; his pulse had started racing with anticipation since spotting the Needle. "Looks like this is it, then," he said. "Is everybody ready?"
Boney flopped on his stomach with a tired whine. "(Wake me when it's over.)"
Reaching down to stroke his dog's head, Claus nodded. "Whenever you are, Lucas."
Duster, Kumatora, and Fuel all assented in turn, taking just long enough for Lucas to psych himself up. "Alright," he said. "Here goes nothing."
What should have been the easiest thing in the world was anything but. Lucas could feel something buzzing in the back of his mind even before he reached out, but once he did it was practically shrieking. The warning came too late, though. He scarcely managed to graze the Needle with the tip of one finger before he sprang back, yanking his hand away like he'd grabbed a live wire.
"Lucas!" Claus caught his stricken brother from behind.
Lucas tried to steady himself as everyone gathered around. He stared at his hand with wide, unfocused eyes. Despite the barrage of questions being fired his way, he couldn't make any of it out. After trying and failing to mouth something coherent for over half a minute, the best he could manage was a soft, "Fine. I'm fine. I'm . . . fine."
"Here, sit down," Kumatora offered.
"No, I'm good." Shaking his head, Lucas was starting to regain his senses – at least well enough to actually notice the people surrounding him.
Fuel's concern was scrawled all over his face. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Lucas muttered. He wasn't. The truth was actually much more embarrassing. He'd had what he could only call a panic attack. The term hardly did justice to what felt like having his heart torn from his chest.
The merest touch of the Needle had bombarded him with thoughts of his mother's death, Claus's disappearance, losing his father to silence and his grandfather to infirmity. This Needle was nothing like the others; it was seething with familiar emotions. It was a Needle of own making, one he'd thrust into his heart and passed on to the Dragon.
"It's okay," Lucas lied. "I'm good now." His mouth was dry and his tongue felt heavy, but he could stand under his own power again.
"Woof! (You don't sound good,)" Boney remarked.
"Maybe take a minute," said Kumatora. "Clear your head."
"Yeah, settle down," Claus insisted. "Let me have a crack at it."
"Don't!" Lucas caught his twin by the arm. The two locked eyes before he continued. "I can do this."
"You looked like you were having a heart attack from just touching the thing. No way am I letting you do that again."
"I have to, Claus." Lucas tightened his grip, pleading for his brother's understanding. "It's my responsibility."
"Bull crap."
"It is! It's my fault that everything turned out like this. I've got to be the one to fix it."
"You can't carry the world all by yourself, Lucas. Let someone else take a little responsibility once in a while."
"You don't get it," Lucas chided him. "This one's not like all the rest." He paused to ask himself whether he really wanted to explain further. Judging from the expression on Claus's face, doing so was the only way to dissuade him. "It's not a Magypsy's Needle. It's . . . I think it's mine."
Duster glanced over to the Needle, then back at Lucas. "How do you know?" he asked.
"Just a feeling I got," Lucas explained feebly, "when I touched it."
Claus narrowed his eyes at his brother. "It's yours?"
"Yeah."
A long, ponderous silence passed between them as they searched one another's eyes. It was Claus who ultimately spoke next. "So what happens to you when it's pulled?"
Lucas withered under the look his brother was shooting him. Unlike Claus, he'd been there to see the aftermath of every pulled Needle. He'd seen the Magypsies fade out of existence one after the next; he'd heard their parting words, their hopes and regrets alike. As a way to go, it seemed peaceful enough. That was sure to come as cold comfort to Claus. "I imagine the same that'll happen to you without the Dragon." Lucas couldn't stand to look his brother head-on. "We'll have to wait and see."
"Lucas, you made me promise we'd turn around and forget all about this if it looked like anyone might get hurt," Claus reminded him.
"You've got a chance to make up for your mistakes, Claus," said Lucas. "Let me make up for mine."
Claus groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did his little brother have to be so damn stubborn? "Together," he finally caved. "We do this together or not at all."
"But—"
"I'm not going to leave you all alone again, Lucas. Let me help."
Lucas knew better than to get in Claus's way once he set his mind to something. "You're sure?"
"Of course. I told you I'd always have your back, didn't I?"
A faint smile grew on Lucas's lips. "Uh-huh. To the end of everything."
Claus hated getting all mushy – even more so with other people watching – but he'd swallow his pride this time. "Hey," he whispered. "C'mere." He wrapped his arms around his brother and squeezed like it was his last chance.
"Not so tight . . ."
"Wimp."
Both boys laughed. It helped hide the dew around their eyes.
In time, Claus backed away, but not before giving Lucas one more pat on the shoulder. "See you on the other side?"
"You got it," Lucas croaked.
They both took deep breaths and turned toward the Needle once again. Unlike the first time, they approached far more cautiously. Even at a distance they started to feel ill, but they pressed on with shaking hands and churning stomachs.
Lucas was the first to set a finger on the iron rod, and despite being more prepared this time the color still drained from his face. He did not pull back though, gritting his teeth as he felt his mind swimming through a wide-awake nightmare. Claus joined him a moment later, and as bad as it was for Lucas, it hit him even harder, forcing him back.
A strange thing happened in that instant where Claus had touched the Needle, though. The fears swirling about in Lucas's mind were no longer just his own. There'd been a palpable dread surrounding his fate that hadn't been there before.
The twins exchanged knowing looks. Without saying a word, they both understood. Steeling his nerves, Claus advanced again. As his hand reconnected with the Needle, his throat seized shut. It wasn't just his demons he had to contend with, but his brother's as well.
Kumatora cheered them on. "Keep it up! You've got this!"
"Yeah!" Duster joined in. "We're with you the whole way!"
"Woof woof!"
Some unseen weight shifted in the Needle, like it was suddenly both lighter and heavier at the same time. Their friends' words had lifted their spirits, but more terrors sprung from within as the Needle tapped into the fears of those same friends.
Shame. Abandonment. Aimlessness. Loneliness. It all surged up through the tips of their fingers, burning their nerve endings and pressing on their skulls. The urge to let go was nigh irresistible. They just might have, if two more figures hadn't stepped from the darkness and into the light when they did.
"Lucas. Claus." It was their mom, hand-in-hand with their dad. "We believe in you," she said.
"Darn right," Flint added. "You boys know what to do. Nothing needs to be sealed away anymore."
The floodgates opened. Friends from far and wide emerged from the shadows, offering their prayers. They came with words of encouragement and reasons to see another sunrise. One more drink with friends. One more gig. To have that first date, or a last dance. A promise to keep, or a chance not yet taken. It all piled on faster and faster and faster, until it seemed like nothing could hold back the tide.
Every person also brought along their own pain to join the swirling vortex within the Needle. It lashed out blindly, violently, but to no avail. All that doubt, that heartache, and the burden of countless losses and lifetimes full of regret, it felt so small under the weight of so much hope, so much love. The prayers of their friends, their family, everyone on the Nowhere Islands and beyond, reached out. The fears sealing the Needle were banished one by one, like night before the break of dawn.
All Lucas could hear anymore were prayers. Some of the voices he knew well. Others he'd never heard before. Some had no words at all, but the beating of their hearts said more than words ever could. It didn't matter who was who, because for a brief moment in late summer, every living thing came together as one chorus to share their hopes, their fears, and above all else, their love.
The seal atop the Needle fragmented, its gleaming shards scattering into the air like dandelion seeds before vanishing. The shaft lifted out of the ground with remarkable ease, and then it too disappeared from their hands. The column of light faded in and out in time with the slow, deliberate beating of the Dragon's heart. Lucas could only marvel as he realized that every last heart that came together to pull the Needle had been passed on to the Dragon. Whatever would come next, it wouldn't be his world. It would be everyone's.
[Last chapter, I promised a question. Here it is: does Claus survive? You tell me. This decision is in your hands. We'll see how it plays out in the finale.
Until then, I want to acknowledge you wonderful readers and extend my appreciation. So thank you, Fueled By Nightmares (for always being there), Super Shadowsonic, asamiruria (for your fantastic suggestions), alpha1026, Captain Circle, The Guest Account, CapitalClassShip, HtfLover (for the awesome fanart), Jinx198, RainyTheChrome, IwaKitsune, RainyTazmily, all of the guest reviewers, and everyone who hasn't reviewed (I'm just glad to know you've been here.) Thank you all for your time, your attention, your follows and favorites, and most of all your love. This has been a real labor of love for me, but I don't think I could finish it without yours.
with love,
ian]
