I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw the look on Charlie's face after her return.

While I stayed stubbornly rooted in Darkness, exactly where I was supposed to be and far from Nightmare's wrath, the woman still often sneaked out to check on the Prison and the World Between Worlds. Each time, I would anxiously wait for her return, although I wouldn't admit my nerves to anyone. The visions Nightmare had pumped into my mind were still felt fresh, even though it had been several weeks since it had happened.

I felt Charlie's presence before I saw or heard her. As I turned to acknowledge her, I stopped in my tracks. Her face was pinched in an awful expression, one that I could barely decipher. An awful swirl of pain and regret and guilt and sorrow. I immediately straightened. "CHARLIE?"

"WX," she said slowly in response. She took a deep breath, then tipped her head to meet my gaze head-on. "Something's happened."

I didn't even try to guess. She raised one hand to beckon me closer, and the second I was within her range, her power flashed around us and I found myself in a frozen world. Well… frozen was a bit of an understatement. Weightless as I was, I didn't break through the snow cover, but the depth of it was obvious. There was a meager spattering of trees, each one bare save for thick piles of snow perched on their branches and pressed against their trunks. I was technically immune to the cold, but that didn't stop me from feeling it all around. I was sure that if I was still alive, I would be quickly frosting over and freezing.

As it was, I was unaffected. And, for a long moment, I was confused as to why Charlie had brought me here.

Then I saw it.

A lonely trail through the snow. Carved out by nothing but sheer force of will. The second I saw it, my chest tightened. Flecks of blood lined the trail, some spots bigger than others. All of it was still vibrantly crimson with freshness.

"WHAT IS HE DOING OUT HERE?" I scoffed. I wasn't an idiot. There was only one person I knew that would be stupid and stubborn enough to go out in this kind of weather with no companions. "IS HE TRYING TO GET HIMSELF KILLED?"

Charlie… didn't respond. She turned her gaze down towards her hands, her chest rising in a deep breath, then she beckoned me forward again.

If I ever had the chance, I would give this kid the verbal thrashing of a lifetime. It was a wonder the other members of the group hadn't simply dropped dead of a stress-induced heart attack with often he got himself into trouble.

I was careful to avoid the specks on the ground, forcing myself to multitask on that and also keeping an eye forward. Charlie was still quiet; her mouth was pressed into a thin line.

My irritation melted the second I lay eyes on the form sprawled out in the snow. I recognized the splash of black fur immediately, although by now, most of the color had been hidden by swathes of snow. He must have been out here for a while now.

"WEBBER," I hissed. I pushed past Charlie and crouched next to him. His eyes were squeezed shut and his face was twisted as if in pain. I noticed the source of the blood trail immediately as I examined him. Claws had torn into his skin, primarily into his arms but also scored across the sides of his head and his abdomen.

The pattern of markings was more confusing than their presence alone. For the most part, the lines were straight across but ragged along the edges, as if they had actively been sawed into his skin. The worst of it marred his left arm and the rest of that side of his body. His right side wasn't untouched, but the markings were fainter and less steady. Like they had been caused by a much duller blade.

Or, I realized in an awful moment of clarity, like there had been much less force behind them. Like what you would expect from someone clawing themselves with a hand that barely worked.

The second the realization hit, I knew. Not a single one of those wounds had been inflicted by something else. They were too familiar, too precise. Every single one had been self-inflicted.

He was quiet and still. None of the snow landing on his side melted. He wasn't breathing.

I nearly choked on the thought. Whatever stupid reason this kid had to go out here… I hung my head in shame. How long would he have to remain out here until someone found him? How long had it been since the cold had ensnared him? My chest heaved and I covered my mouth as if to hide the ugly sound that escaped my throat. I was physically incapable of crying, but my body seemed to have forgotten that for the time being.

How long had he been out here, alone, slowly freezing to death? Where was he?

...Where was he?

And just like that, I snapped out of my mournful thoughts and felt immediately stupid for even thinking them. What did it matter if Webber died? I was dead. If he died, he would simply appear in the entrance of Checkmate, where he could easily be greeted by me or Charlie. But that was what made this so awful yet odd.

Was he already in Checkmate? Without Charlie or myself, the only ones who could greet him would be Maxwell… or Nightmare.

I stood with a sudden urgency. "WE NEED TO GET TO HIM BEFORE NIGHTMARE DOES."

Charlie kept her gaze steadily down at the boy by her feet.

A new thought, yet another awful one that made my stomach twinge in pain, appeared with frightful potency. Unless…unless he was in the Prison. Destined to stay forever locked in a cage with no exit like an animal on display.

I had seen the Prisoners countless times at this point. Even the strongest struggled some days with maintaining their sanity. Others had lost it years ago. Webber was already well on his way to insanity, if he was locked in the Prison-

"He's not there," Charlie finally said. "He's not in Checkmate. And he's not in the Prison, either."

I went very still and watched her expectantly. It seemed to take her some time to gather her words.

"Nightmare… wanted this," she said softly. "It didn't want him dead. It wanted him close enough to death that it could… mark him. Prepare him."

"PREPARE?"

"Like a pig for the spit," Charlie growled. "It craves his power." She sighed, although the fire that had lit in her eyes didn't fade. She crouched down to place one hand on my brother's cold body. "Nightmare is getting impatient. It won't take his soul because it needs him alive, but it looks like it finally made its biggest move."

"IMPATIENT?" I echoed in a sharp voice. "IMPATIENT FOR WHAT? WEBBER HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH NIGHTMARE!"

Charlie covered her eyes with her arm. Her next breath shuddered in her chest.

"WX," she managed. "I haven't been truthful with you."

"I KNOW." Charlie acted as if it was a big surprise, but it was obvious she was keeping a lot of information from me, if not actively lying about everything. I knew she had the answers I wanted, but she had withheld them for whatever reason until now.

Maybe this is when I could finally get some truth out of her.

"Your titles. The Host, the Young Heir, the Martyr, the Sister, the One True Heir?" I nodded, prompting her to continue.

"They're all a lie."

My mind came to a standstill. I knew very little about the world, but the one thing I thought I knew was the titles. Even if I didn't know exactly who some of them referred to, with the knowledge that Webber was the Martyr and not the Young Heir, I at least knew they were something real. Tangible. Something with significance.

What did she mean they were a lie?

"They do exist," Charlie said slowly as if reading my mind. "They're real, but not in the way… you've been led to believe." Although she was keeping her body incorporeal at the moment, she reached forward and started to brush Webber's fur. Her hand passed through it, but she didn't stop the repetitive motion.

"There are a lot of misconceptions about it. All of which you've been, unfortunately, led to believe."

"I AM NOT IN THE MOOD TO PLAY MUSICAL CHAIRS AROUND THIS TOPIC, CHARLIE," I growled.

"'The Sister' is entirely wrong. That title has been mistranslated one too many times. The Ancients… they didn't have gendered terms for familial relationships like that. It's more accurately translated into 'The Sibling', and it was originally used in reference to a story about the mortal sibling of a god. In the story, the sibling was never referred to with any specific gender, but word of mouth changes things over time… certain people liked to say the sibling was identical twins with the god as much as they liked to call the god a female. It's simply not correct."

"WHAT DOES AN OLD FOLKTALE HAVE TO DO WITH ANY OF THIS?" I demanded.

"Because, WX, it wasn't just a folktale. It is history. And that's where all the titles came from."

I found myself going still. I hadn't seen anything about this in the World Between. How could it be history without a single world memory existing of it? How much of the story was a lie?

How much of it didn't even matter?

"The problems started as the story was told and passed down. The original tale got twisted and changed… more importantly, the story continued. When the Ancients fell, very little was left of the world. Some people survived, but they were split across lands and worlds. Three main lands, and six main worlds. The first of the lands, and the most notable, was the Mainland, where you used to be before your passing. Then, there is the Archipelago, where Wilbur ended up after the Fall. Lastly, a place we call the Farlands, where both Webber and Tyler used to live before building Maxwell's Door.

"The largest of the six worlds is where you started. Where you all met, and where the Mainland and the Archipelago exist. The other five are the ones that have been twisted and deformed by Maxwell in order to create his challenge. People used to live there, before they died to the harsh environments Maxwell created in them. Five worlds… and five titles.

"The old residents of the Archipelago took to calling the Sibling 'The Mediator', in reference to their mediation between mortal and immortal. The Farlands gave them the name 'The Lost', as they believed the Sibling was a lost god, and not a mortal at all."

"WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH US?" My voice came out shakier than I expected. Despite how long I had spent studying the world memories, none of this was familiar to me. It felt like treading thin ice.

"I'm getting to that. I have a lot more to explain." She paused in her movements and shifted in order to gaze upon Webber's face. I felt a twinge of guilt at the realization we were having this entire conversation standing over the frozen body of my brother, but I wasn't about to stop Charlie, not when she was giving me real answers. Besides, I didn't really want to just leave him here alone. I carefully reached forward to rest my hand on his shoulder, but I simply phased right through him. I frowned and drew my hand back.

"While the Archipelago and the Farlands remembered the Sibling under different names, the Mainland forgot about the story almost all together. Remember, this is a few thousand years ago now, long before you guys came into the picture. Humans existed on the Mainland back then. The few who remembered the story began to call them 'The Forgotten', reflecting their status as a forgotten figure in the world." She took a deep breath.

"It's when the story is being told in the other worlds that things might start to sound familiar to you. The second of the six worlds, the one Maxwell nicknamed A Cold Reception, the story was told referring to the Moon god- Altar- as a goddess and to the Sibling as the Sister.

"The third of the six worlds, later nicknamed The Game is Afoot, told a very different story. You see, most versions of the folklore are incomplete, coming straight from the mouths of the Ancients. They were not alive to pass down complete versions of the story. Many of the residents of the third world recognized the Fall of the Ancients as the next part. In the typical world-of-mouth tale as told in the first two worlds, the Sibling is killed by the Ground god- who you might recognize better by the name 'Nightmare'- but then they simply disappear from the tale. The story typically ends with Nightmare giving the Ancients incredible power in what is considered to be a show of guilt and goodwill, but I think we both know that is not the case.

"Unfortunately, they believed it was true. Soon after the Sibling died, a child was born with striking similarities to them, and many people considered him to be their incarnation. Not that the boy had anything to do with the Sibling. It's most likely the Sibling genuinely ceased to exist after Nightmare murdered them, and any similarities between the two were just coincidence. But still, Nightmare despised this child the same way it hated the Sibling simply because of their similar looks and personalities. It was then Nightmare did something truly awful. It killed the boy in the exact way it killed the Sibling, but this time, before the boy's soul left his body, it swarmed him and took complete control over him.

"Despite Nightmare's control, the boy fought back viciously. Altar themself gifted the boy with a sword to banish the shadows that constantly stalked him, and to purge the poison that Nightmare leeched into his bloodstream. As soon as the boy realized what the sword could do, he took action, and plunged the weapon into his own stomach to destroy Nightmare's presence.

"Nightmare… was injured. Its soul was broken irreparably. And yet, it was still fully alive. The boy, however, did not survive having so much energy and darkness purged from his body at once. As such, he became known as the Martyr, and his sword, the Sword of the Martyr.

"The fourth world, later known as King of Winter and where we stand now, left out the portion about the boy's sacrifice. As such, he became known as the Host, and many believed the boy was the one who caused the Ancients' destruction. The stories once told here were… not favorable to him.

"The fifth world, now called Two Worlds, had a different name for him as well. Since they believed the boy to be the Sibling, they also believed he held a holy status above them all. They believed it was his divine right to take the Throne and rule the Constant and all of its worlds. Once the Throne was given to someone else, the boy quickly gained the nickname The One True Heir. The only one with the right to be on the Throne.

"Which left Darkness… and Darkness… well, they simply called the boy 'The Young Heir'. I believe it's easy enough to see where that came from."

I was dizzy with the sheer amount of information Charlie was sharing with me. This was more information than I had ever heard at once, and even my robotic brain was struggling to keep up with all of it. She gave me time to sort it out mentally.

"THE TITLES THAT WE WERE TOLD WERE SO IMPORTANT, THEN… ARE SIMPLY NICKNAMES FOR SOME KIDS WHO LIVED THOUSANDS OF YEARS AGO?" I summarized with a sharp edge in my voice. "ALL THIS TIME, THEY'VE MEANT… NOTHING?"

Charlie blew a thin stream of air from between her teeth. She looked back down, although I could see that her eyes were focused more on her own hands than anything else.

"I have reason to believe," she began slowly. "That while the Sibling and the boy have nothing to do with each other, the boy is still an important character in this story. He might not have been the brother of Altar, but his role in history has become almost interchangeable with the Sibling's." Charlie avoided my gaze at all costs. "And, I have reason to believe that that very same boy is lying at our feet now."

Silence. Despite how straightforward and simple her answer was, it took me longer to process than the entire monologue about the Sibling.

"WEBBER." Even I had to admit, I sounded stupid saying it. Of course she was talking about Webber. But the extent to which she was talking about… I couldn't even fathom it.

"Your titles didn't come from nowhere or nothing. Or… I guess I should more accurately say his titles." She waved a hand towards the frozen form at their feet. "The Host, the Martyr, the Young Heir, the One True Heir, the Sibling- they were referring to two children. Not five. It never used to be five."

That was why his sword was called the Sword of the Martyr. Why two of the titles referred to being the heir. Why something as simple as a familial relation meant so much.

He was the Young Heir. He had always been the Young Heir. But it was more than that.

He was more than that.

And we meant nothing.

"OUR EXISTENCE," I murmured. "DOES IT MEAN NOTHING THEN? IF WE NEVER HAD SIGNIFICANCE TO THE WORLD… WHY WERE WE BROUGHT HERE? DID WE EVER HAVE ANY IMPORTANCE? OR WAS IT ONLY EVER HIM?"

"You are important," Charlie said sternly. "You are just as important to the continuation of this world as Tyler. The titles may have originally come from the boy and the Sibling, thousands of years ago, but through the generations, they have changed. They no longer embody one person anymore. Claiming the titles were meant for you would be… inaccurate, but to say the titles have nothing to do with you would be just as incorrect. Their meaning may have changed, yes, but they still hold true. Wilson has hosted Nightmare's presence for some time now. It was your martyrdom that allowed for events to flow as they should. Wilbur was the heir of the Archipelago, just as Tyler is the heir to the throne. And of course… what more significant sibling is there than the sister of the second most powerful being in the Constant? Those titles are you, just as they were him."

"THEY ARE NOT ANY MORE?"

Charlie tipped her head with a thoughtful expression. "I would say not. You have embodied these titles far more wholly than he could, and I do believe he's building his own repertoire of titles to choose from. The tenacious, the integrous, the loving, take your pick. In the end, they're all just words. It isn't as if there's any powers or abilities related to them."

"THEN WHY IS IT IMPORTANT? WHY IS ANY OF WHAT YOU JUST TOLD ME IMPORTANT? WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH THE RELATION BETWEEN NIGHTMARE AND WEBBER?"

"Knowing the origin might help to come to terms with the end," Charlie said cryptically. She shook her head just a bit. "You wanted information, WX, and I told you all I know. Whether you care or not is up to you. As for the relation between Nightmare and Tyler… Tyler had once been Nightmare's host, if he is truly an incarnation of the same boy. Nightmare's… favorite host, actually. It desperately wants him back, just to feel a fraction of the power it once held."

It desperately wants him back. The words were haunting to hear. This supposed history, of something that went far beyond us and happened so long ago no one remembered the specifics, was supposed to be the main driving force behind Nightmare? It didn't click properly in my head. Nightmare always seemed so much... more. And I simply couldn't fathom the idea that there was so much that I didn't know. So long studying the World Between and for what? I hadn't learned anything useful.

It was the sound of hurried footsteps that dragged me from my thoughts once more. I glanced up and nearly jumped at the sudden presence of my old companion.

For his part, I didn't think Wilson could see me or Charlie. I would assume that, had he been able to, he would've had a much different reaction. Instead, his eyes were stuck on the figure of the boy at our feet, half-buried in the snow.

"Oh, Tyler…" The scientist breathed. His breath clouded around his face, crystallizing in his hair and settling in his eyebrows. I took a hasty step back as Wilson crouched by Webber's side. His brow was creased in pain, one hand rising to touch his temple as if nursing a sudden headache.

It was clear he had been out for a while. He seemed to be wearing the pelts of rabbits over his normally exposed ears and hands, but that didn't stop the cold from turning his nose and cheeks bright red. It was strange, I noticed, to see such clear signs of freezing temperatures without being affected by them myself.

"We should go back," Charlie said distantly. I startled at hearing her voice. I had almost forgotten she was even there. "Before Nightmare notices we're gone."

The thought of Nightmare catching me and Charlie away from our post again, admittedly, was a terrifying one, but I couldn't bring myself to verbally agree.

As an automaton, I had no heart. Technically, anything I felt was simulated in what felt hyper-realistic to myself, but that didn't explain the raw agony that crushed my chest at seeing them both like this. Wilson displaying the same sort of shock and pain I had felt the second I lay eyes on the frozen boy, and Webber so still in his arms. I had the comfort of knowing that even if Webber died from this, he would simply be crossing a veil into the same worlds I've roamed for the past several months .

(Had it been a year yet? Maybe not. It felt like so long ago now.)

Wilson and the others… they didn't have that same sort of comfort. Wilson never showed any remembrance of his time between the Dragonfly fight and his resurrection, and the others had never even experienced death. To them, it was an end. It was permanent.

After all, I knew very well that the Wilson that had come to the world with us had died to the Dragonfly's claws.

Yet, he seemed so genuinely pained now. He looked so much like the man who had stood between Webber and death so many times, like the grip that had encased him in such darkness had weakened just a bit.

Maybe Nightmare was simply enjoying forcing the full effect of emotions onto him. I wouldn't put it past it.

"I WANT TO SEE WHAT HAPPENS," I said distantly, belatedly, to Charlie's observation. She didn't comment on it, but it was likely she already knew what I was going to say.

Truth be told, I wasn't used to being able to stay in a world like this for so long. I wasn't corporeal, and the others couldn't see me, but for the first time in so long, I was technically beside my companions again.

Why did it hurt so bad? I hadn't thought about Wilson in a positive light ever since he tried to kill Webber. Why did I suddenly care now?

I expected Wilson to be more careless than he was. I expected him to be angry, even, that Webber had somehow gotten himself back into a mess like this.

He just looked sad.

To my surprise, Charlie actually stayed by my side. She wearily glanced up at the sky, but her incorporeal form seemed unconcerned with the snow-muffled light from the sun.

She must have been just as curious as I was to see how this would pan out. Because that was the only reason I was staying here for now. Curiosity. Nothing else.

The lie sounded stupid even in my head.

"CHARLIE," I said. I kept my voice down despite how useless such an endeavor was. She tipped her head slightly in my direction in acknowledgment. "HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?"

"Oh," she said softly. She didn't give me an answer for a long minute, the silence so cloying I was sure she was going to ignore the question entirely. When she did answer, I jumped at the suddenness of it. "He wanted to take his own life."

A plain, straightforward answer. Probably the first time Charlie had ever immediately given me one. Again, my chest seized with pain, but outwardly I only nodded faintly.

Wilson carried Webber like something precious, but without urgency. Luckily, this lack of urgency wasn't carried by everyone in the group.

After so long, I had almost forgotten what Winona looked like. I hadn't known her for long, and she had been in the world for such a short time that few memories focused on her. While I tried to keep up on recent events to the best of my ability before Nightmare chased me off, I typically didn't pay much attention to her.

At this point, I technically knew Wilbur. I had spoken to him a couple of times now, and had seen him plenty during my research. What was particularly strange was to see him in this particular situation. In the span of just a couple of moments, I suddenly found myself completely surrounded by the people I had left behind.

Wilbur had been injured recently. Makeshift bandages wrapped several parts of his body, including his face, chest, and leg. His fur had grown shaggier since the last time we had talked, likely spurred on by Maxwell's cold worlds. Among the group, he was the last I expected to take sudden and authoritative action.

It didn't feel like I was watching old friends, or even people I knew. I was simply an observer, unheard and unseen. It felt both impersonal and agonizingly intimate at the same time.

Realistically, I knew quite well that my death wouldn't always leave a discernible gap in the group. It had been so long now that it would be warning of much worse issues if it did. And yet… it was strange to realize that this group never existed with me in it. I never experienced the things they had experienced together at this point. Wilbur had never known me in life, and now he was so seamlessly part of the dynamic that it was impossible to see where I had been cut out and he had been put in.

Maybe I was never meant to fit in that place. Maybe, the whole time, it had always been a four-piece puzzle, and I was simply putty used to fill the gap until the last piece was found. Maybe this is what the group was always meant to be.

I knew this line of thinking was selfish. I should've been glad that my death hadn't totally destroyed Wilson, Webber, and Winona. Yet, I couldn't stop feeling so freaking betrayed by it.

Charlie rested a hand on my shoulder as if reading my mind, but she remained silent. I glanced towards her and saw that she wasn't even looking at any of the others. She had her eyes fixed entirely on Winona.

Winona. Her sister. I had almost forgotten that fact. She had such a raw expression of pain and guilt on her face that I couldn't even bear to look at her.

We simply watched, swimming in our own similar but separate misery with no words to share.

Once the excitement wore down, I took a distantly familiar spot near the fire to watch the flames. I really should've gone back by this point, but I couldn't bring myself to say the words. Instead, I continued to eavesdrop on the living.

"How's he doing?"

The voice sounded like it was directed at me, and I snapped my gaze away from the fire to look at Wilson. The scientist was focused on Wilbur and Webber, the former with his chin perched on the latter's side with a sort of relieved contentment on his face.

"He's alive," Wilbur said gently. I couldn't help but smile, just a bit. If nothing else, at least they were still fighting for Webber, even if I wasn't there to aid. I looked back at the flames, keeping a metaphorical ear out to listen, if nothing else than to sate my own curiosity.

"He's not doing well, is he?"

"I don't know yet. We'll have to see how he-"

"Not… physically, I mean. Mentally."

I scoffed. Did it take something this drastic for them to come to that conclusion? Maybe I was wrong to think they could be trusted in that sense.

"No. He hasn't been for awhile."

For a while. Wilbur knew the whole time, and yet he didn't stop it from happening. I pulled my knees to my chest and rested my forehead on them. Misery flooded my system without relief.

"I thought he was doing better," Wilson murmured. I wanted to laugh in his face. Well, no, actually, if I was alive, I would've yelled at him. How dull and careless could you be to see something like this and think he was improving.

I could've stepped in. I could've helped-

"He never recovered from losing his brother."

And that was it wasn't it?

There was that ugly, unnatural sound again. Such a violent and visceral noise that my chest shook under its weight. I couldn't have done anything, because in the end, this was my fault.

Before I could entirely drown in my own thoughts, a soft hand touched my shoulder. I whipped my head around to snap at Charlie for interrupting my lament, but the words died in my chest. She looked just as awful as I felt, her hand shaking slightly even as it rested on my shoulder. Her eyes were downcast and watery, but her face was dry. She gave me a shaky smile. "We need to go back," she murmured.

I wanted to protest, but I knew fully well that she was right. I had already risked a lot by staying for so long, and if Nightmare caught us out…

Well, I wasn't sure if I could stand another one of Nightmare's namesakes.

On shaky legs, I stood once more. I brushed myself off despite remaining clear of snow and dirt. I cast another hesitant glance over to my companions with a pang of longing. Wilbur was going on now about the magic in his crown, something I had seen at work a few times in the world memories now, and Wilson was watching with an air of genuine interest. Winona had vanished at some point with a comment about checking traps, so she wasn't present anymore.

Despite everything that had happened, there was a peaceful look on Webber's sleeping face.

I smiled faintly. They would be okay. Our separation wouldn't be forever.

Soon, I thought to myself. Soon, we'll all be together again. I promise.

With one final look back at her sister, Charlie waved one hand and allowed the both of us to return to Darkness.

The second we were no longer in the frozen world, Charlie marched forward with purpose. I recognized the way she moved, casual but stiff. Acting as if she had been there the whole time. I had to jog to catch up.

"CHARLIE," I called, catching her attention. She glanced my way. I couldn't get myself to look her in the eye. "WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO THEM?"

She hummed in response. I could see the gears turning in her head, and it was clear she was trying to pick the words that would make me the least upset. I huffed in irritation. "I… don't know exactly. Don't give me that look!" She said without even looking to see the look I gave her. True, it was exactly what she expected, but still. "No one has ever gotten this far before."

"HOW DID ANYONE GET ANYWHERE WITHOUT WEBBER?"

"There was one person," Charlie answered. "We all knew that she wasn't going to make it to Maxwell, and I think Nightmare made it a bit of a game. It would let her through the Teleportato just to see how far she got." She hesitated, then added: "Wigfrid. I'm sure you recognize that name by now."

I did, and I remember Charlie even telling me exactly how Wigfrid had died. I just hadn't realized that she didn't die on the mainland.

"King of Winter is where she lost," Charlie said bluntly.

"WHAT WILL HAPPEN, THEN, WHEN THEY GET TO DARKNESS?"

Charlie smiled faintly. "I don't know for sure, but I have a few things I'm hoping for." She paused, but before I could ask her to elaborate she did without prompting. "I don't know if they'll be able to see us. I can hope, though. We'll have to wait until then." Then, her smile faded. "I do know that it will be harsh though. This is Nightmare's domain. This is where Nightmare is at its absolute strongest. It will have just as much access to them as we will…"

"SO IT IS STILL JUST AS UNKNOWN."

"Unfortunately." She let out a sigh, her footsteps slowing to a halt. I couldn't tell exactly what was going through her mind, but whatever it was, I could guess based on the conflict on her face. Stuck between something she wanted and something she didn't want. The twin desires to be with her sister again and to spare her from Nightmare

I understood it.

"But Darkness is not what we're concerned about right now," Charlie said with a furious shake of her head. "There's still some time before then. We have other things to worry about until then."

We had to keep on Nightmare's good side as well. After all, if Nightmare wanted to cause trouble, it knew exactly what our weaknesses were. We had to keep our own tails in line, or who knew what the demon could do to us or our families?

If Nightmare wanted to see me as a model prisoner, I would have to be a model prisoner.

Until the day we meet again.