Page 427 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘By blood and moon the truth will sing,’ the monster intones, holding out the leaf that Lachlan’s little girl kept for him to wear so he’d never, ever die.

‘I don’t know what that means.’

‘You didn’t want to see.’

‘If you let me go back, I’ll do anything. I’ll kill Penhalyx, I’ll kill anyone I need to, I’ll—’

‘Burn the world? Look around.’

‘Please.’

‘Take the memory back.’

He’s terrified of it.

Shaking.

‘I don’t know what you took.’

‘I took what you buried. I dug it up and kept it safe to give you when you inevitably failed.’

‘I can still kill him if I—’

‘Alistair Penhalyx has committed atrocities upon the world and his own bloodline for centuries now, but he did not kill Julian and Jessamine.

‘Troy Harker did not kill them.

‘Riley Harker did not kill them.

‘You are a man who weighs judgement by the origin of the bullet. You must see it to know.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Then you and I will never leave this place.’

Lachlan is slowly burning to death in a world of his own making. He presses his wrist, no cut-down tree to count the rings of anymore, but the R is still there.

‘Be brave,’ the monster whispers.

Lachlan doesn’t want to.

He’s so afraid.

But so was Roman.

So was Jules.

So was Mimi.

So was Danya.

He can be brave like them.

So Lachlan takes hold of the leaf necklace, puts it over his head, feels it sit against his bare chest,

and then the world ends properly.

No fire.