Our New Life Together
Chapter 29: Lost & Found
Blaze's eyes fluttered open, the world around her slowly coming into focus. As her vision cleared, she recognized that she was in a bed, though not the familiar one from her own bedroom. The softness of the sheets and the gentle glow of the room's lighting suggested she was in a place of care and recovery. Her royal attire, though once regal and pristine, now bore the marks and stains of the fierce battle she had fought, a visual testament to the trials she had endured.
A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she attempted to move, her body protesting any sudden motion. With a wince, she realized just how drained and battered she truly was. She strained to sit up, her efforts futile.
"Hey, you're awake."
The words, spoken with a tone of warmth and relief, drew her attention. Her eyes shifted to the figure seated in a wheelchair beside her bed, and a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips despite her weariness. Silver, her loyal friend, was there with that familiar smile of his.
She took in the sight of him, noting his arm positioned gently over his broken ribs. The absence of his boots, replaced only by his socks, gave her a faint sense of amusement amid the seriousness of the situation. Still, she struggled to find her voice, her words a soft whisper as they left her lips. "Silver..."
Blaze's mind felt like a foggy haze, her thoughts scattered and elusive. The effort to think clearly and piece together what had transpired was a challenge, and she could only manage a faint furrow of her brows as her gaze settled on Silver, who seemed to understand her confusion.
"Silver, what happened? How did I get here?" Her voice was weak, the words a struggle to articulate.
Silver's voice carried through the room as he explained, "We're at the Solace Central Hospital. Your guards brought us all here. You've been out for a while."
A sudden jolt of alarm coursed through her, and any remnants of lethargy vanished as she shot up, ignoring the pain that immediately followed. "Revena!" she exclaimed, her voice wrought with concern.
Silver acted quickly, leaning forward in his wheelchair to gently guide her back onto the bed. His touch was gentle, a reassuring presence that eased her back down. "Easy, Blaze. You're safe now. You did it, you stopped her."
His words washed over her, and as the adrenaline began to subside, she allowed herself to sink back into the pillows.
Blaze settled back onto the bed, her loose hair forming a delicate fan across the pillow. Her eyes, a mix of weariness and worry, searched Silver's face as she voiced her concerns. "Is Marine okay? Naomi? Gardon? Did we stop Nega?"
Silver's presence offered comfort, his voice a soothing assurance as he replied, "Everything's okay, Blaze. Everyone's right here. Nega's been arrested."
The weight that had burdened her mind seemed to lift, replaced by a wave of relief. A small smile touched her lips, and then her focus shifted to Silver, concern for him taking precedence. "And you?"
A gentle chuckle escaped Silver, his humor a reassuring balm. "I'm okay. Not the first time I've had broken ribs."
The air between them held a fragile stillness, and in that quietude, Blaze's guilt rekindled like a smoldering ember. Her gaze shifted toward Silver, an unspoken weight hanging in her expression. She found it difficult to meet his eyes, her inner turmoil etching lines of conflict on her features. "I hurt you," she murmured, her voice carrying a heavy remorse.
Silver's initial look of confusion melted into comprehension as her words sank in. He shook his head gently, his head quills bobbing in accord. "No, no, you didn't."
The grip of her guilt didn't loosen, and she repeated herself, her voice tinged with a mixture of self-blame and anguish. "You're in that wheelchair because of me. I did that to you. I could have killed you."
Silver leaned closer in his wheelchair, bridging the distance between them. He reached out and tenderly clasped her hand in his own, his eyes unwaveringly sincere. These hands had been through so much, but they were still strong, just like Blaze. "That wasn't you, Blaze. You weren't yourself."
Blaze's gaze met his, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions as his words washed over her. The warmth in his eyes, the forgiveness and understanding, it all created a soothing balm for her tormented heart. For a moment, they existed in that quiet connection, a shared understanding that transcended words, offering solace and acceptance in the wake of chaos.
Silver's grip on her hand remained firm, a silent anchor amidst the emotional whirlwind. "Blaze, I'm sorry. I never should have left you."
Her gaze softened, and she met his eyes with a mixture of gratitude and empathy. "You can't blame yourself for that, Silver," she replied, her voice carrying a reassuring tone. "Nobody could have foreseen this coming."
Their gazes met, a silent exchange pregnant with the complexity of their emotions. Silver's voice, gentle yet burdened, trembled through the room, the words carrying the weight of a confession unburdened. "I hurt you too," he admitted, his gaze tracing the telltale mark on her cheek, a delicate blemish marring her porcelain muzzle.
Blaze's fingers moved to graze the faint imprint, her touch a fleeting caress as soft as a whisper's kiss. Her lips curved, a wistful smile that danced like sunlight through leaves. "You did what you had to, Silver," she affirmed, her words a lifeline tossed to a drowning heart.
A fragile moment hung suspended like dew-kissed petals on a delicate stem. As Blaze closed her eyes, it was as if the world outside faded, leaving only the raw canvas of her emotions. Two glistening teardrops welled up, each a tiny reservoir of unspoken pain that swelled and overflowed, tracing their paths along the contours of her cheeks.
Silver leaned forward, his wheelchair an anchor that barely contained his concern. His fingers enfolded hers, the connection a lifeline forged from empathy and shared suffering. In that instant, their hands entwined.
"What is it, Blaze? What's wrong?" he inquired, his words a lifeline cast to catch whatever was dragging her beneath the surface of her thoughts.
Blaze's breath trembled, and her lashes glistened with the remnants of her tears. Her voice emerged as if pulled from the depths of a river choked with debris, each word a struggle against the current.
"I wanted to kill her, Silver," she confessed, the words heavy with the turmoil of her innermost desires. Her confession hung in the room, pregnant with the intensity of emotions long held at bay. "I wanted to so badly... But... I couldn't..."
Blaze's eyes, once closed, now opened to reveal the tempest of emotions within. They glistened like polished gemstones, capturing the room's stark light and refracting it into a kaleidoscope of feelings. Her fingers tightened around Silver's hand, as if his presence alone could anchor her in this sea of conflicted sentiments.
A hesitant sigh parted her lips, carrying her words like fragile offerings to an uncertain altar. "Silver, when I looked into Revena's eyes, I saw something there." Her gaze sought his, a silent plea for understanding.
"Her eyes held pain, a pain that once mirrored my own, a pain of loneliness and isolation" she continued, her voice gathering momentum to find its course. "And in that moment, I realized that killing her wouldn't set us free from the grip of our shared past. My ancestors did terrible things to her…"
Her fingers traced the faint lines on her own cheek, the touch a gentle reminder of the mark Revena had left. "I couldn't bring myself to take her life, Silver, because in doing so, I would have been extinguishing a spark of redemption. I saw a glimmer of the person she used to be, before darkness consumed her. How many of us had dark beginnings? Knuckles, Shadow, Omega, Shade, Gemerl!... I knew that if I killed her, I would be snuffing out any chance of her finding her way back."
Tears welled once again, but they were different now—not tears of sorrow, but tears of acceptance and catharsis. "It's easy to hate, to seek revenge," Blaze whispered, her words as fragile as a bird's feather caught in a gentle breeze.
Silver's heart swayed in the currents of Blaze's words. He held her hands tenderly, the touch a testament to the unspoken support that had always underscored their friendship—a support he could offer even when words proved elusive.
But then, as if following an unscripted cue, Silver's world pivoted on an unexpected axis. Unable to suppress his feelings any longer, Silver leaned forward, his lips brushing lightly against the gem on her forehead. It was a tender and unexpected kiss that spoke volumes—of friendship, of caring, of a depth of emotion that defied easy articulation.
Blaze's breath caught in her throat, surprised yet undeniably touched by Silver's gesture. Her heart danced in her chest as she felt the warmth of his lips against the cool, smooth surface of the gem. It was a kiss that held the promise of a future they had longed for, a future filled with hope and love.
A flicker of surprise crossed Silver's features as realization dawned, his expression a portrait of a child who had just discovered a world of hidden wonders. "Blaze, I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Blaze's finger met his lips, a gentle shushing of his self-doubt. Her touch traced a path along his cheek, an intimate gesture that held no trace of hesitancy. And then, as if guided by a magnetic pull, their lips met—a tender connection that spoke more eloquently than any words could ever hope to.
As their lips gently parted, a tender afterglow lingered in the air. In the hushed aftermath, their eyes met once more, and the room seemed to shimmer with newfound understanding. The gravity of their journey together—both the memories just regained and the trials they had weathered—cast a prism of realization over their shared gaze.
Weeks ago, the torrent of regained memories had washed over them, revealing the tapestry of their past lives in Crisis City. The fragments of who they once were had stitched themselves back together, weaving threads of shared history and experiences that had, in turn, woven their hearts together in the present.
Silver's homecoming to Blaze's castle, a dream he had scarcely dared to imagine, had become a tangible reality. He had been embraced not only as a friend but as a knight, a champion in her realm. The castle's grand halls had transformed into the backdrop of their evolving connection—a connection that had grown stronger and deeper than he could have foreseen.
As they looked at each other now, their eyes spoke of the nuances of their journey—the Sol Empire Jubilee, a dance that had transcended mere steps, resonating with an unspoken harmony. The festival, where their pretend date had blurred the lines between the roles they played and the feelings they harbored. The echoes of their laughter during their visit to the Chaos Dimension, the memories of shared sunsets and whispered secrets.
And now, those hints that had flickered at the edges of their friendship had ignited into a blazing truth. The moments shared, the glances exchanged, the gestures offered—each had been a brushstroke on the canvas of their unspoken emotions.
Silver's touch, as gentle as the caress of a zephyr, found solace in the silken strands of Blaze's hair. The sensation invoked a purr from deep within her chest—a sound that resonated like a contented melody, a harmony sung between hearts. His touch, once familiar as the comforting embrace of friendship, now carried an electric charge, a current that stirred dormant emotions awake.
It was as if a dam had burst within him, flooding his senses with the revelation that what he felt for her surpassed the boundaries of mere camaraderie. Love, raw and undeniable, coursed through his veins, unearthing emotions he hadn't even known were buried within. He wanted to be her protector, her confidant, her partner in a dance that transcended time.
Blaze, too, felt the currents of this newfound truth swirling within her. Her heart spread its wings to embrace the depths of her emotions. The tether that had bound them as friends had evolved into something profound—something she was ready to embrace with all her being.
As Silver's touch continued to weave a symphony through her hair, her mind whispered a question. Would this affect her princess duties, her responsibilities to her kingdom? But the question, while valid, felt inconsequential against the realization that she was the princess, the architect of her own destiny. Her heart was her realm, and she intended to rule it without reservations.
Silver's gaze flickered with a mixture of bashfulness and sincerity, his heart's revelation etched in the earnest curve of his lips. "You know," he began, his words stumbling into the air. "I used to think knights were supposed to protect princesses from dragons and stuff. But I think I've learned that sometimes, the princess is the bravest one, and she doesn't need a knight to slay dragons for her. She just needs someone who'll stand by her, no matter what."
He paused, his eyes locking onto Blaze's with a mixture of hope and vulnerability. "And I want to be that someone for you, Blaze. Not just because you're a princess and I'm your knight, but because you're you."
Blaze's laughter bubbled forth. It was a laugh woven with tenderness, an embrace of the quirks that made Silver who he was. "So naïve," she echoed, her words laced with a warmth that brushed against his heart. In this shared moment, they were not only embracing the depth of their emotions but the familiarity of their shared journey—a journey that had brought them to this point of sweet realization.
Silver's wheelchair glided quietly through the sterile hospital corridor, guided not by the motion of his hands, but by the power of his psychokinesis. Blaze, walking gracefully at his side, carried herself with an air of strength, the remnants of her previous injuries fading into insignificance in the face of their shared resolve.
As they approached the room where Naomi rested, a sense of relief washed over Blaze. Naomi, her loyal handmaiden and confidante, had been through an ordeal of her own, a shadow that had loomed over Blaze's heart throughout their journey. Now, peering through the open doorway, Blaze's eyes settled upon Naomi, her presence a soothing balm to her troubled soul.
Naomi lay on the hospital bed, her form nestled in the crisp, white sheets. By her side, Coco, her sister, sat like a guardian angel, her concern etched in the lines of her face. Her husband, Orion, held Naomi's hand gently, his thumb making a soothing, rhythmic motion against her knuckles. His caring touch spoke volumes, a silent reassurance that they were all there for her. Naomi appeared unharmed, her features bathed in the soft light of the room, her breathing steady and serene.
The bond between Naomi and Blaze transcended the roles they had occupied in the kingdom. They were more than princess and handmaiden; they were kindred spirits, sisters of the heart.
Continuing on their journey through the hospital, Blaze and Silver arrived at another room, where a burst of vibrant energy seemed to radiate from within. Marine sat upright in her bed, the very embodiment of her unflagging enthusiasm. Despite the toll her hydrokinesis had taken on her, her chirpiness remained unscathed.
Encircled by the members of the Coconut Crew, Marine gestured animatedly, her words punctuated by her signature accent.
"So there I was, mates, right in the thick of it!" Marine's voice surged with boundless excitement. She gestured wildly, her hands painting the air with the vivid strokes of her narrative. "Them robots, they thought they had the upper fin, but little did they know, I had me hydrokinesis at the ready!"
The Coconut Crew leaned in, their expressions a mixture of rapt attention and knowing amusement.
"I summoned the waves, I did! Big, massive waves that crashed down!" Marine's arms swept through the air, mimicking the grandeur of her watery onslaught. "And those bad bots? Whoosh! Swept away just like that!"
Her recounting of the battle was punctuated with triumphant laughter, her narrative a swirl of bravado and exuberance. "You should've seen their faces, mates! Shocked, they were! I reckon even Davy Jones would have been scared out of his boots!"
A chorus of chuckles and cheers echoed through the room, the Coconut Crew reveling in the vivacity of her words.
Blaze's lips quirked in a knowing smile as she listened. Marine's stories, peppered with her unique brand of exaggeration, had a knack for lifting spirits, even in the midst of a hospital setting. The details may have been stretched, her achievements magnified, but Blaze understood that beneath the colorful narrative lay the heart of a friend who saw the world as an uncharted playground of joy and wonder.
As Blaze and Silver's journey through the hospital neared its end, they arrived at a room that held an aura of solemnity. Gardon, Blaze's stalwart personal guard, lay upon a bed, his usual attire replaced by bandages that wrapped around his torso. His hat and vest were conspicuously absent, a stark contrast to his usual composed appearance.
At the sound of their entry, Gardon turned his head, his gaze meeting theirs. "Princess Blaze, Sir Silver," he greeted, his voice a testament to the loyalty and respect that defined him. "Thank the stars you're both okay."
Blaze's heart warmed at the sight of him, her appreciation for his dedication swelling within her. She approached the bed and took a seat beside him, her presence a reassurance.
"How are you feeling, Gardon?" Blaze inquired, her voice laced with concern.
Gardon, a guardian through and through, tried to project an air of strength and stoicism, as if his injuries were mere inconveniences in the face of his responsibilities. He spoke with a practiced calm, "I've had worse, Your Highness. It'll take more than a few dings to keep me down."
In the stillness of the hospital room, where bandages adorned Gardon's battle-worn form Blaze's perceptive gaze settled upon him. She sensed that there was more beneath the surface, an unspoken weight that hung in the air like a hidden storm.
Her voice, a gentle breeze stirring the quiet, broke the silence. "What is it, Gardon?" Her words carried not just concern, but a sincere invitation—an invitation to share, to unburden, to bridge the gap between them.
Gardon's gaze faltered, a shadow passing over his features. Shame seemed to twist his expression, etching lines of conflict upon his face. With a heavy sigh, he spoke, the words emerging as if drawn from the depths of his conscience. "Princess Blaze... When I recover, I will be resigning from my position."
The weight of his declaration rippled through the room, leaving an air of uncertainty in its wake. Blaze exchanged a fleeting glance with Silver, their unspoken question hanging between them. What could drive someone so loyal to abandon his post after all this time?
"Why?" Blaze's voice was a beacon of curiosity, a sincere plea for understanding.
Gardon turned to face her fully, his eyes mirroring the turmoil within. "I failed you, Princess Blaze," his voice trembled, heavy with the weight of his confession. "I failed to protect you from that witch."
Blaze's words carried the weight of empathy and understanding, her expression a canvas painted with the hues of compassion. "Gardon, we can't win every battle," she said gently, her voice a soothing balm to the wounds of his self-blame. "The burden is just as mine to bear as it is yours."
Gardon's brows knitted in confusion, his eyes searching hers for clarity. "What do you mean?"
A soft sigh escaped Blaze's lips, a reflection of the vulnerability she was willing to share. "I let Revena goad me into attacking her," she admitted, her tone tinged with a mix of regret and introspection. "If I had kept my temper in check, things might have turned out differently. But my point is, failure is a part of life. I choose to throw myself into danger, and sometimes that means things don't go as planned."
Her words hung in the air, a truth spoken with a blend of acceptance and determination. In this moment of confession, Blaze was baring not just her actions, but the essence of her character—a character defined by courage, by the willingness to confront challenges head-on.
Gardon's expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and contemplation painting his features. The realization that even his princess faced her own moments of doubt seemed to settle upon him like a revelation.
Blaze's words were a beacon of resolve, her voice infused with the strength of a leader who saw beyond the shadows of defeat. "We will rebuild, we will grow stronger," she proclaimed, her gaze unwavering, her spirit unbreakable. "And I want you by my side, Gardon."
In that moment, Gardon's eyes became a mosaic of emotions, a testament to the internal struggle he grappled with—the duty that had shaped him, the loyalty that had defined him, and the camaraderie that had come to mean more than just service. He had sworn his allegiance to the Sol Empire, to protect its princess with unwavering resolve. To walk away from that oath was to face a tempest of conflicting emotions.
"It would be my honor, Princess Blaze," Gardon's response, though spoken with a composed demeanor, held an undercurrent of depth—a depth that resonated with his recognition of the evolving bond between them.
Blaze's smile, radiant as sunlight breaking through clouds, held a promise that stretched beyond words. As she intertwined her fingers with Silver's, her gesture was a tapestry of shared affection, a declaration of a new chapter unfurling before them.
"And there's going to be some... changes coming soon," Blaze continued, her words a whisper of anticipation.
Gardon's gaze darted between Blaze and Silver, his brow furrowing in momentary confusion. And then, like a splash of understanding, his eyes widened comically, his features shifting from contemplation to realization. The implications of their joined hands, of the unspoken language exchanged between them, suddenly became clear.
"Oh," Gardon's exclamation was part surprise, part bemusement, and all honesty.
The realization that Princess Blaze had found not just a partner, but a spouse, had a certain enchantment about it. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his pride for Blaze and the choices she had made radiating from his every expression.
His heart swelled with a warmth that echoed in his voice as he regarded them. "Princess Blaze," he began, his words a gentle affirmation of the path she had chosen, "You couldn't have found a better companion."
In those simple words, Gardon conveyed not just his approval, but the depth of his understanding. The journeys they had shared, the battles they had fought side by side, had borne witness to the bond that had grown between Blaze and Silver—a bond that had evolved from friendship to a love that transcended the boundaries of their roles.
They were not just a princess, a guard, and a knight. They were a trio bound by threads of loyalty, camaraderie, and love, ready to face the unknown chapters of their intertwined destinies.
The castle hallways, once marred by chaos and turmoil, were now reclaimed by the triumphant stride of the royal guards. Among them, their captive Revena was dragged, her once powerful demeanor reduced to one of exhaustion and defeat. The halls echoed with the ghostly reverberations of her shattered plans, of revenge unattained, of a life marred by agony.
As her eyes lifted, her gaze falling upon the approaching guard with handcuffs in hand, Revena's expression shifted from weariness to sheer horror. The cuffs bore an eerie resemblance to the bracelets she had been forced to wear on Exile's End for five centuries—a grim reminder of the pain she had endured, the scars they had etched onto her wrists, the isolation they had subjected her to.
The traumatic resonance was immediate, a shiver racing down her spine as the past and present intertwined in a sinister dance. The scars, both visible and invisible, flared anew, like embers ignited by the ghostly touch of memory.
The grip of the guards tightened as she began to thrash, her fear and desperation a tempest that defied their hold. Her words pierced the air like a haunting lament. "No! I will not endure another lifetime of solitude!"
But the guards, their resolve steeled by their duty, pressed on. "Cease struggling!" they commanded, their voices a testament to the unyielding order they represented.
Yet, within Revena, a spark ignited—a spark fueled by desperation and the resurgence of her dark magic. In an instant, she tapped into the wellspring of power that lay dormant within her, a power that had once been used for good, twisted now by pain and anguish. The guards, taken by surprise, were unable to react in time.
With a surge of strength born from desperation, Revena propelled one guard into the wall with a force that seemed to shatter the very air. And before the other could react, she seized him and hurled him at the approaching guard with the cuffs, their bodies colliding in a cascade of chaos.
As if fueled by a surge of adrenaline born from desperation, Revena's weariness seemed to evaporate in an instant. Her boot heels struck the marble floor with a rapid rhythm, a desperate staccato that echoed through the castle hallways. Each step carried a silent plea for escape, her heart pounding in sync with the frantic clicks of her footfalls.
The royal guards, hot on her heels, pursued her with unyielding determination. Every corner turned, every desperate maneuver executed, only brought more guards into the fray, their voices demanding her surrender. The irony was palpable—a stark contrast to the events of a mere day before when Revena had effortlessly bested and defeated these very guards. Now, in her weakened state, she found herself evading them, fighting to retain her freedom.
A labyrinth of hallways unfolded before her, each twist and turn a precarious dance with fate. The halls, once silent witnesses to her ascension, were now the stage for her desperate flight.
And then, as she sprinted down another hallway, her path was suddenly blocked—guards positioned like immovable obstacles, their purpose clear. Behind her, the sound of boots echoed, more guards closing in. Trapped, the walls seemed to close in on her as desperation mounted.
With no other option, Revena's resolve manifested in a daring act of desperation. She propelled herself forward, the window at the middle of the hallway becoming her salvation. Glass shattered in a cacophony of sound as her body hurtled through, a symphony of freedom amidst chaos. The shards of broken glass fell in her wake.
The castle courtyard embraced Revena's impact with a jarring thud, her painful cry punctuating the collision with reality. The glass-littered ground yielded its toll, her fur marred by cuts that mirrored the invisible scars of her past. Pushing herself up with a mixture of determination and agony, she limped forward in a desperate attempt for freedom.
Gradually, the castle's imposing walls receded, replaced by the openness of the world beyond. She moved with a singular purpose, her steps unsteady but unwavering, as if the very ground beneath her understood the weight she carried.
And then, she found herself at the edge of a cliff, the expanse of the ocean stretching out before her.
As she turned around, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the royal guards closing in. They formed a barrier, their weapons an unyielding wall of consequence. Their faces were etched with resolve, their purpose clear—to bring her back, to hold her accountable for her actions.
Amidst the encirclement, the lead guard, Darin, stepped forward, his sword an embodiment of authority. "Surrender. You have nowhere to go."
Revena's gaze swept across the grim tableau—guards encircling her, the ocean beyond beckoning with its expanse. Her heart raced, a symphony of emotions echoing in the hollow of her chest. Her wrists, bearing the scars of her past captivity, throbbed with a cruel irony, the pain of her history mingling with the pain of her present.
She looked up at the guards, their expressions a mix of determination and duty, and then, with a gaze that bore the weight of her defiance, she met Darin's eyes. "Some things are worse than death," she murmured.
In that fateful moment, with the weight of her past and the uncertainty of her future converging, Revena made a choice—one that spoke of her desperation, her refusal to submit to the chains that bound her. She chose freedom over the cold embrace of captivity, the unknown depths of the ocean below seeming to offer a salvation of sorts.
With a determination that transcended her weakened state, Revena threw herself backward. Her fur, now bearing both visible cuts and invisible scars, caught the air like a final act of rebellion, her body suspended for a fleeting moment before gravity claimed her.
Despite her magical abilities, Revena's weakened state prevented her from harnessing her power to fly to safety. The very magic that had once been her ally had now been diminished by her exhaustion and the trials she had endured. And so, her fall was one of surrender, a leap born not of power, but of desperation and the sheer force of her will.
The royal guards, mere witnesses to this decision, rushed to the edge of the cliff, their expressions a mixture of astonishment and uncertainty. Revena's plunge into the depths was a visual echo of the choices that had led her here—a plunge into the unknown, a plunge fueled by the fear of captivity and the hope for something more.
And so, with resolute steps and the weight of their roles as guardians of the Sol Empire, the royal guards embarked on the journey to restore stability, their shadows stretching long and purposeful through the castle halls, a promise that the kingdom would endure, that order would be reestablished, and that even in the wake of upheaval, the sun would rise anew.
Because of last Friday's shorter chapter, I thought I'd spoil everyone with the last two chapters this week. Come join me this Friday for the final chapter!