After Amelia's death, Safari ran to her, crying, shaking her body as if she might still wake up, while Martha sobbed and screamed for her fallen friend; Hazel carried Nestle's body and buried it beneath the sand just as the sandstorm finally calmed, and I stood there staring at Amelia's corpse, unable—unwilling—to accept that she was gone; later, we rode the kappa back to the cave, and a single thought kept tearing at me: why am I always weak, always incapable of saving anyone? I believed that if I changed, the world would stand on my side, but I was wrong—this world is brutally cruel, and as we returned, Martha fell asleep with tears still clinging to her eyes, while I sat there wishing things had never turned out this way, wishing I could be useful, wishing I could be the hero of this story, yet realizing I am neither hero nor villain, just someone who can't become the person he wants to be, someone who exists only to survive day after day; no— I do have a purpose, to go back home, and yet even that feels hollow after failing to defeat even the weakest enemies without cheating, without Hazel speaking casually of killing her own brother, a cruelty that terrifies me because I am no different—I let my own older sister die, the only sister I ever had, and it's my fault: if we had prepared more, if I hadn't rushed, if I hadn't been so desperate to go home, would she have survived, would she have been happy seeing her long-lost friend again, and what did I gain from today's battle besides regret and a cheap stolen magic taken from Alexander's book—slime magic, weak to acid, fitting, I suppose—and now all I can do is sleep.
In my sleep, I saw a dark figure staring at me.
My mouth, my body—everything was swallowed by darkness.
The figure was short, young.
I used the last bit of my strength to focus… and realized the truth.
It was me.
A reflection of myself at twelve years old—back when this was my world.
Now I'm twenty-two, trapped in Xiver's body, a child's body, twelve once again.
He stepped closer, laughing softly, eyes fixed on the darkness clinging to me.
Jeffrey Atlas.
He laughed at my state, observing me slowly before finally speaking.
Jeffrey: Is this your story? Is this where everything ends? Hihihi.
Xiver: Am I under attack?
Jeffrey: Yes. By me. Jeffrey Atlas.
Xiver: I don't have time for this. Where are Martha and Hazel?
Jeffrey: The girl you took everything from… and the girl you're dragging along with you? Both asleep.
Xiver: What are you talking about?
Jeffrey: Hihihi, playing dumb? Look at Martha. She lost Maria. Her vision. And now Amelia. What will you take from her next? I'm curious.
Xiver: Those weren't my fault… That's why I never wanted to be in this world. It's dark. Cruel.
Jeffrey: Wroooong. You never wanted to be here because you cling to your past.
Xiver: No—that's not—
Jeffrey: Look at what clinging to memories does to you. Admit it. The moment you came here, you wanted to stay, didn't you?
Xiver: I thought I could fix a few things.
Jeffrey: Bingo.
He smiled wider.
Jeffrey: You thought fixing Elizabeth and Alexander's marriage would create a safe, fake reality—one that could replace the life you never had. A perfect family. A perfect world. You thought becoming a king would make this fantasy kinder.
His voice turned colder.
Jeffrey: That's why, deep down, I truly hate you, Xiver.
I stared at him in shock. Regret crushed my chest. I was sweating, barely holding back tears.
Jeffrey: Always trying to do good, always making things worse. So tell me—what are you going to do to Martha next? Make her kill her—
Xiver: I NEVER KILLED MY MOTHER! SHE DIDN'T KILL HERSELF BECAUSE OF ME!
Jeffrey: Now hold on… I never mentioned your mother. You did, Xiver.
Xiver: What kind of mind games is this?
Jeffrey: Answer me this. If you died right now… would Martha, Elizabeth, Alexander, Sara, Maria, and Amelia have lived happy lives?
Xiver: I… I—
Jeffrey: You're not angry because Amelia died. You're sad because you saw Martha grieve today. You saw someone cry for a loved one.
He leaned closer.
Jeffrey: Something you wish you could do.
Xiver: My… wish?
Jeffrey: To cry. To mourn openly. To grieve the people you lost—because that's what humans do.
His voice sharpened.
Jeffrey: So tell me, Xiver… what are you now? A piece of this fake world, or a real human from the real one?
A pause.
Jeffrey: And even if you wanted to go back… you'd never be welcomed. Not after your sins. Not after your crimes.
Xiver: I… I—
Jeffrey: Our talk is over.
He turned away.
Jeffrey: But remember this—why would they welcome Jeffrey Atlas… and abandon Xiver?
He smiled one last time.
Jeffrey: Think about it. We'll meet again—in death.
He faded into the darkness.
Jeffrey: So cling to life… Crawling One.