Capitulum XXV

T he next day, I snuck into the archive to find Diana's history, but it wasn't there, seemingly unfinished somewhere in the world. She must have gotten help.

I couldn't bring myself to return Rigel's history. It felt like I needed to keep reading it to understand. After chucking it in the fire, I'd taken a moment before fishing it out, finding it utterly unmarred by the licking flames.

I found myself looking for him on campus, double-checking that there wasn't still a big hole in the top of his head. The image of it had my stomach twisting. Not to mention the idea of him as a little boy, constantly alone, rationing his food because he couldn't predict if any more would show up.

With the impending midterms, I decided to focus on my coursework, which wasn't so hard, as there was plenty of it. I maintained a normal social schedule, trying to pretend nothing insane was going on.

I managed to pass everything, more or less. For the Mortal Object Manipulation final, we had to levitate a ball and place it into a trash can without dropping it, which I did, after nearly decimating Professor Algenette's beehive.

Professor Beck gave Arlie, Connie, and me a pass, though she did leave a note saying that the floating pies were more "stylistic" than she personally preferred.

On the final day of Transformation, we walked into the classroom and found it devoid of tables and chairs. Instead, a giant pile of rocks awaited in the center of the room. The test was relatively simple: He would leave the room, and we were to transform into something exceptionally simple. Rocks. The longer it took for him to find you among the regular rocks, the better grade you received.

"Guys," he said after he found the first third of the class within a few minutes, "we've got an incredible amount of hairy rocks in this pile."

I managed to make it a few minutes before he touched me, and I quivered instinctively.

Despite that, I passed.

~

To celebrate the first half of winter break, we mainly did fuck all, as we were at a standstill with any of our plans.

When Christmas dinner rolled around, I got all dressed up and taped a red ribbon around my cane so it resembled a peppermint candy. I ate, pressed between Connie and Arlie.

The Reapers had seemingly called a silent truce, and it didn't bother me as we all feasted on bite-sized Bakewell tarts and mulled wine.

Blair dressed up in a half-baked Santa outfit, delivering all of us little trinkets he carried slung over his shoulder in a pillowcase.

Stacy gave me the true standout present of the day, though. I'd expected another wooden carving, but instead, she handed me a curiously sewn contraption. It looked like if a sock had made sweet love to an octopus. Not only that, it was made sturdy with thin wooden boning.

"It's so you don't go losing your foot anymore," she said after I hugged her.

I tested it out on the spot, shocked by how well my foot remained in place as I walked back and forth.

Satisfied with her present, she pulled me aside and asked, "Have you seen Rigel?"

I said no, and she left it at that. I'd been spending so long pretending I couldn't see him that it hadn't occurred to me that he wasn't actually there.

The mystery only lasted until I returned to my room, finding him sitting on my bed, thumbing through his history.

"What the hell?" I gasped, dropping my Christmas presents in shock.

He didn't flinch, only glancing up from under his lashes. "This is pretty grim reading material."

"What are you doing here?"

He shook his head. "I don't rate it personally, especially that ending. How pointless."

I closed the door. "Why are you in my room?"

"It's still unlocked for me, which I must say, I was not expecting." He sighed, eyes returning to the book as he stroked it, fingers tremulous against the leather binding. "Why would you... why do you have this?"

"I wanted to understand."

He tipped his head up at me, offering a tight, unhappy smile. "Are you satisfied now? Do you feel better for knowing?"

"Rigel, I'm not—"

He slammed the book closed. "I think I'll return this to the archive for you. Unless..." He offered it to me with a raised brow. "It's such a good read you feel the need to revisit it multiple times?"

"Rigel . . ."

"Great." He got to his feet, and I stepped back. "Pleasure doing business with you."

He dug around in his pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper and shoving it into my hands as he passed me to the door.

I looked down to find a long grid of coordinates. He'd mapped it. He'd found the way to Last Hope.

"Rigel," I called, turning to the door.

His sharp frame disappeared down the hall, and something dark loomed in the corner of my eye.

Turning, I found the black door on the wall. I froze, heart pounding like I'd spotted a predator in the room with me. The door only blurred out of existence as Rigel turned the corner.

I dropped the piece of paper.

The door wasn't for me. It was for him.