"Can we really not wash this stink off? It's not that long of a trip to the waterway." Henry glanced back in its direction longingly. "As you may or may not know, I do not enjoy smelling like a crate of rotten eggs all that much."

Thanatos laughed. "Oh, be still, you great master of survival; the stink will at least conceal our presence. As close as we are to the waterway, we are to the land of the gnawers."

Henry groaned but said nothing. The flier had a point, even if he didn't admit that aloud. "Let us land regardless," he said instead. "I'm hungry."

"Who did you whine to while I was absent?" asked Thanatos before he veered and targeted the exit. "Or did you preserve it all for me?"

Henry flicked at his ear in reply, and Thanatos hissed. He darted out of the tunnel and dove into a vast cave, landing at the bank of the river that flowed by where they had stayed during their first month in the Dead Land. The sight was so familiar at this point that Henry thought they were almost guaranteed to eventually end up here.

"I did preserve it all for you, of course," he said, dismounting. Then he kneeled to refill his water bags and catch fish to eat.

"How exceptionally lucky I am."

Henry filled his pot with water next and threw Thanatos a grin. He had not continued his tally, so he knew not exactly how much time had passed; it may have been two weeks or so—enough for the flier to recover well.

The day after they had reunited, Henry and Thanatos had briefly returned to the nibbler colony—they'd had catching up to do, and Henry was itching to consult with Teslas about possible new upgrades and tweaks to his existing equipment.

Everyone in the jungle had rejoiced at their arrival. They had only stayed three days this time to exchange stories and goods—not least the buzzer venom that Henry had given to Teslas. In return, he had replaced Henry's slingshot with a stronger one that used a better frame and could fire larger stones.

And then there was the Ignifer upgrade: The prototype Teslas had given Henry to test was a compact construct to be fastened around the hilt and top of his sword, loaded with a maximum of three wax pellets filled with Ignifer. A mechanism dispersed the substance automatically at the pull of a lever near the hilt. That, and the fact that this version of the flammable substance may be ignited by grating one firestone against the blade itself, certainly made applying it faster. I'll build an automated igniter in next time, Teslas had promised, and honestly, Henry could almost not wait.

The days at the colony had been pleasant and indispensable, but Henry hadn't wished to stay any longer. Not anymore. He remembered a time when he had considered permanently moving in with the nibblers and had a hard time imagining he would ever want to leave. Now his thirst for adventure had begun nagging at him after only a couple of days.

It is a kind of sanctuary. A place for a break whenever we find ourselves in need of one, he had remarked to Thanatos on the evening before they had left. Not much else had needed to be said.

And like last time when he had sought adventure, it found Henry . . . a few days after arriving back in the Dead Land, this time. It came in the form of some crawlers, who had just stood in the entrance to his and Thanatos' cave one morning, looking for their Wielder of Light.

Word of Henry's victories against Goldfang and the buzzers had apparently spread like wildfire, and every single crawler in the Underland seemed to know his services were up for purchase now—with a, so far, hundred percent success rate. However, those particular individuals had had a different kind of job for Henry compared to the ones he had completed so far.

When they asked if he was willing to venture to the gnawers' land to rescue some of their kind who had been taken prisoner, for the usual reward, of course, Henry hadn't hesitated. He even found himself excited about the change of pace.

And so, Thanatos had officially joined his business, and they had ventured into the land of the rats together, revisiting the prisons of Splintleg's arena, where they had met Platonius and Curie all those months ago. They had nearly gotten captured again, but Thanatos' ability to fly greatly increased their maneuverability and speed, and they had been successful.

And so, after delivering the crawlers back to their colony and collecting their reward, they had made their way back to the Dead Land in search of a new campsite . . . and had unfortunately stumbled into a tunnel system that was contaminated with sulfur in the process.

"So, what would you like to do now?" asked Henry after finishing up his meal. "Do we look for more jobs? Or do we take a break? It may be for the best if we stay out of Splintleg's path for a while."

Henry removed his torch from the device Teslas had given him, which allowed it to stand upright. It could almost pass as a campfire that way.

"A break is a good idea." Thanatos yawned. "Perhaps you could finally show me that crawler island you discovered while I was kidnapped? We may even—"

Henry looked up when Thanatos broke off; only when he spotted the flier's peaked ears did he jump to his feet and pull the lever to extinguish his torch in the same breath. He knew exactly what that meant at this point. "How many?"

"Two, and they are heading our way."

Henry yanked up his backpack and threw the standing device inside, along with the torch. He vaulted onto Thanatos' back, and the flier took off immediately and dipped into a coiling tunnel that was more than a hundred feet high. It widened, and Henry thought it mounded into a cave—at least he thought so. He couldn't be certain in the dark. At that moment, Henry found himself eternally grateful that Thanatos hadn't let himself be persuaded to wash off the sulfur.

"Only two? Is it Splintleg?"

Without replying, Thanatos veered toward the wall and found a nook near the ceiling; there, he touched down. Before Henry could ask why he didn't just flee, a new voice cut through the silence that had his blood freeze in his veins: "And I'm telling you—you're overreacting. But you're seldom not, aren't you? Now move your lazy hide a smidgen faster; we don't want to keep the Regalians and the warrior waiting, do we?"

Henry clutched Thanatos' fur much harder than he had to; his mind clustered with a million questions—and, to his dismay, also with panic. "It's Ripred!" Henry whispered, urgently hoping that his voice wouldn't tremble.

Hadn't he just told himself that, with some luck, he would never cross paths with Ripred again? Despite the utter darkness, the image of the scarred gnawer flashed before his inner eye, and he instinctively ducked atop Thanatos' back, combating the irrational fear that Ripred might spot him somehow.

"I know," replied Thanatos. "Be still."

Henry bit his questions back and slid off the flier's back, careful not to slip and fall in the utter darkness. Only when he cowered in the nook next to Thanatos did he feel secure.

"Argh!" hissed Ripred, down below. "How much longer must we endure this wretched odor? Didn't we leave the sulfur caves behind ages ago? Or does my memory play tricks on me because a minute in your company feels like an hour?"

Only then did Henry properly register that Ripred was not alone. He was talking to someone.

"It has," that someone said with a much quieter and a few pitches higher voice. "This smell comes n-not from the caves."

"Oh? Is that so?" replied Ripred. "Well, dear Twitchtip, then please be so kind as to share with me where the stink comes from so that I can take care of it."

"Up there! They are hiding up there!"

Henry jerked back until he hit the wall. Even though he couldn't see, he would have bet Mys that Ripred's companion . . . Twitchtip? was pointing in their direction.

"Up there?" Ripred snarled. "How would anyone even get up there?"

"It is a human and a flier," hissed Twitchtip, and Henry stilled to stone. "One of each," she said. "B-Both male, although the human is barely more than a pup."

Henry's mouth opened, but he couldn't speak. He could barely think. His fingers dug into Thanatos' fur, and he fought the urge to hide his face in it. It was utterly ridiculous to fear being spotted . . . but so was this gnawer's ability to describe them despite the sulfur. Ripred hadn't smelled them. How did she—?

"A human and a flier?!" exclaimed Ripred. "Hey!" he yelled up in their direction. "If you guys're scouts from Regalia, tell your friends that I am on my way! They do not need to send me babysitters. It is just that this traveling companion is not the easiest to deal with!" He had apparently smacked Twitchtip, and she gave a pained whimper.

"Oh no," she said after a while. "They are n-not from Regalia." She dragged her claw across the stone floor, and the sound made Henry squint. "They came from that direction, but not quite that far. They smell of crawlers and of the Dead Land. There is also a hint of jungle . . . but they haven't spent much time there, at least not recently. Though they have been in the gnawers' land as well, but no trace of other humans!"

"What?" exclaimed Ripred, sounding almost as shocked as Henry felt. "Hey!" he yelled up in their direction again. "Why are you hiding like cowards? Come down here; I won't bite." He gnashed his teeth and chuckled.

"Gah!" Twitchtip groaned, irritated by the loud noise. "They are armed . . . a sword, he has, the pup, and a slingshot. Yes, it is a slingshot. And a different weapon, I have never e-encountered its kind . . ." She sounded a loud sniff. "It is a form of . . . knife or . . . dagger, I think, but the material is unique . . . I can not put it into words, can not put, p-put . . ." She cut herself off and broke into whimpering.

"What?" hissed Ripred with no regard for her apparent distress. A lash cut the silence, and Twitchtip shrieked. "Speak on, for the good of us all!" he urged. "What kind of dagger he carries is irrelevant. But who are they?"

Twitchtip hesitated. "He, the pup," she said with a sniff. "He has . . . long hair! He recently shaved and washed himself in a river, and the flier, he is . . ." Another sniff. "B-black!" she blurted out. "Black, w-with . . . a white stain! Yes, a white stain . . . on his face!"

By this point, Henry's head was spinning; he barely kept himself sitting straight. Only in his periphery did he register Ripred's "What?!" His mind clogged with questions. What . . . was this gnawer? How was she doing that?

"I'll go." Thanatos disrupted his thoughts. "You stay."

Before Henry could protest or ask why he even wanted to show himself, the flier had already spread his wings. Maybe it was for the better, Henry thought. Maybe at least making an attempt at finding out why Ripred was headed to Regalia, of all places, was a good idea. And with this other gnawer, who could . . . what? Smell . . . colors? "Try to find out why they are going to Regalia!" he hissed before Thanatos could lift off. The flier gave a nod, and then he was gone.

Henry steadied himself in the nook and finally dared to snap his fingers; the gnawers knew he was there anyway.

Click.

There were their clear silhouettes: Ripred, a looming figure on his hind legs, and Twitchtip, cowering behind him on all fours; she seemed to be pressing her nose into the floor.

Click.

There was Thanatos; his wings rustled when he landed directly in front of the gnawers.

"Ah, so it truly is you, Thanatos," said Ripred. "Of course, there's only one flier fitting that vivid description Twitchtip gave. I would say that it is good to see you alive, but honestly, I would have been more surprised to learn of your death."

Right. Only then did Henry recall that Thanatos had claimed he and Ripred had been allies in the past. Honestly, now that he thought about it, he could see it—they were both bitter, grumpy social outcasts with sharp tongues and . . . a fair portion of wisdom, so much he had to admit.

"It is good to see you, Ripred," said Thanatos conversationally. "It's been a while. You bring a friend?"

"As do you, it almost seems." The gnawer chuckled. "Well, where is your new human companion? Is he too scared to come out?"

Henry gritted his teeth. The rat hadn't even laid eyes on him, and he already felt the familiar desire to stick his sword up his gloating throat. But he was a hundred feet above ground and nowhere near the skill level to even draw his weapon against Ripred.

That had been the first thing the gray gnawer had taught him—the hard way. Henry once again found his words replaying in his head: Take care, lad, or you shall end up like me, stripped of any respectable rank and warming your shabby old hide at the fire of your enemies.

One day. Henry's hand once again found his own wrist, and he could almost feel the sting of pain from when Ripred had struck him. One day we shall meet again, Henry thought, and then you will find that your prophecy has come true. And then you will eat your words.

"Why should he bother?" Thanatos spoke, and Henry listened up again. "He does not know you. I do. And I can handle you alone."

"Is that so? Isn't that curious?" Ripred snarled. "The Thanatos is not only alive but actually in the company of a human . . . whom I do not know. Did someone just win a bet somewhere?" He giggled. "Who was it? Which one of us bet against the rest who all agreed that Arya was the only human who could have ever stood your company?"

Before Henry could properly ask himself what the gnawer was talking about and who Arya was, Thanatos hissed. "The only thing that we have agreed on is that the past is the past. Or would you like for me to start delving into yours?"

"Fine!" snarled Ripred. "Fine, fine, fine, fine. I concede. If your new friend wants to stay hidden, he shall do so. Hah!" He paused. "Where did you even find this human in the Dead Land? You're making me curious."

"Then you shall stay curious."

Ripred chuckled more. "Yes, yes. I will do that. Let us leave your mysterious human companion where he is and get to the point where you tell me what the hell you are doing here instead."

"I live here," said Thanatos resolutely. "And so, I happened to cross your path and overhear that you were headed to Regalia . . . with this company."

"Oh!" Exclaimed Ripred. "So you are curious too? But since when have you become curious about what wanders in or out of Regalia these days?"

Thanatos hesitated. "You mentioned the warrior," he said eventually. "The Overlander? Does that mean one of Sandwich's prophecies has come upon us? If so, this would be good to know. Some speak of events that will affect the entire Underland if my memory doesn't fail me."

Henry had to internally applaud Thanatos for his quick thinking. He hadn't even registered that Ripred had mentioned Gregor earlier.

"Oh?" Ripred perked up. "Did I say warrior? Really?" When Thanatos did not reply, he laughed. "Well, maybe I did. And maybe . . . a prophecy is indeed upon us."

"And you head there to join the quest for it?"

"You seem to know a great deal about how these things work," Ripred said pensively, and Henry stiffened. He was right; technically, Thanatos had no reason to know about any quests. "Either way," said Ripred after a while, seemingly dropping the topic. "Whatever your source is . . . I'm not joining any quest; she is."

With another snap of his fingers, Henry perceived that he pointed at Twitchtip, who had retreated to the wall, fervently shoving her nose into the ground.

"And the humans will allow that?" Thanatos asked what Henry had instantly wondered as well. Was she one of his allies? Did Vikus know her as he did Ripred?

"They will," snarled Ripred. "They will need her. And now I am done satiating your oh-so-uncharacteristic and boundless curiosity. We must be on our way. Come, Twitchtip." His claws scraped on the floor as he moved.

"Halt!" Thanatos' wings rustled, and with another snap of his fingers, Henry perceived him leap and land in Ripred's way. "Which prophecy?" the flier urged. "Is there any reason to worry?"

Ripred hissed, and Twitchtip, who had already stepped away from the wall, shrieked. "Even you should not provoke me needlessly," the scarred rat snarled. "But fine, if that is what it takes for you to let us continue at last, I will tell you. Honestly," he snorted, "I am somewhat surprised that you haven't heard of it yet. Yes, Snare conceals him well, but . . . have you been letting up recently?"

Thanatos hissed, but Ripred cut him off. "The Bane!" he called. "It is the Bane! The warrior has come to kill him, and if she wishes to stay with me, she will help."

***

"I want to go back."

Thanatos raised his head. His amber eyes fixed on Henry, who stood by the very same river where they had rested before Ripred and Twitchtip had appeared. Except now they were gone, and Henry didn't remember the last time he had felt so certain about what he wanted to do.

"What . . . are you talking about?" asked the flier. "Go back where?"

Henry doubted Thanatos would understand. But he needed him—he'd never get there on time on foot.

"Wait!" Thanatos perked up. "Is this about what Ripred said? You . . . are not going back to Regalia."

Henry bit his lip. Hard. But it was another quest. Gregor was back—however they had managed that. Henry attempted to recall the wording of the Prophecy of Bane. Its words were not as familiar to him as those of the Prophecy of Gray; all he remembered was that the Bane was a legendary white rat, one of which was born only once a century, and that the prophecy called for the warrior to drain its light—to kill it. He could have sworn there had been something about a baby too, but he failed to recall the context.

A quest, he thought. A quest to kill the white rat. Who might they bring? Gregor, of course. Most likely, his sister as well; maybe that's where he'd gotten the baby from? The first Underlander on his mind was Luxa. There was no way she would miss this, and with her, Aurora. Solovet and Ajax? Mareth and Andromeda? The names clogged his head, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to add another one to the list: Henry.

He should be there. The desire for it surged through his body like wildfire. His place was with them. Hadn't he done what he had done, he would have come along one way or another.

As quickly as it surged, the desire burned out, leaving him in the ashes of resentment. How dare they go on a quest without him? Henry thought, fully aware that there was no rational justification for his anger. And still . . . "I have to." The words slipped from his mouth without his consent.

"Henry, don't be a fool. You know that they will arrest you if you so much as show your face to any of them."

Henry had no answer; the flier's words burned like acid, but they were true. He had jumped ahead of himself. But . . . wasn't the solution for this one clear? "They'll only arrest me if they recognize me."

"Henry, no," said Thanatos emphatically. "Whatever you are planning, it will get you killed. Don't you have better things to almost get killed over out here now?"

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"Because I can imagine what you were going to suggest." Thanatos rose to his full height and spread his wings. "You want to conceal your identity, wearing some kind of disguise—but even if they don't recognize you as Henry, they will recognize you as an outcast. Like this, do you truly think they would welcome any offered help?"

Henry swallowed the lump of unwarranted anger. He stared up at Thanatos with as much defiance as he could muster and already knew that, no matter what the flier said, he would do this. There were just some things set in stone. Like the happenings of a prophecy, but enabled by determination, not foresight. And because, once again, it was . . . what he needed to do to get what he wanted? But was it? Henry bit his lip. What was it that he wanted so much?

"I'll see soon enough."

***

It was all chaos in his mind that night. They had, for the lack of better options, decided to camp by that same riverside, but Henry couldn't sleep; his own rules writhed in his mind, to not think of the past, but as much as he tried, he could no longer keep it all out anymore.

It was like hearing actual news from Regalia had turned it into more than a distant memory. It was real again—a place that he still, despite everything, yearned more than anything to be part of. His common sense knew Thanatos was right. It was borderline ridiculous to even think of going back, but Henry told himself that it was irrelevant. He decided what he deemed worthy of risking his life for, and he had decided.

"You still cannot let this go, can you?"

Henry shot up and stared at Thanatos, who hung nearby, keeping watch.

"I cannot."

The flier held Henry's gaze for a moment, then he leaped down and landed in front of him. "Fine," he said. "Let's talk. What is it about this news that disturbs you so? I thought that your goal was to be a successful outcast. Going back to Regalia will not help with that. On the contrary, it may prevent any further success. It may mean throwing your life away needlessly," he emphasized, and Henry made a face, "now that you have just begun to live more or less fulfillingly out here. Is it not so?"

Henry swallowed once, twice. The worst part was that Thanatos was . . . not wrong. This decision did contradict his other one about being a successful outcast. "I—" He crossed his arms. "I don't know."

"You're willing to risk your life for something that you can't even describe?"

"No!" Henry kicked a load of pebbles into the stream. "I mean . . . Something has changed. I don't know what, but it has. What if . . . there is something more important than being a successful outcast?"

"Like what?" When Henry didn't say anything, Thanatos sighed. "What could it possibly be?" he repeated. "There is a new prophecy and a new quest, yes. But it is not like they are incapable of assembling a competent party without you. There is no reason to believe that your presence will change anything. You cannot show your face, so it cannot be about revealing that you are alive either. What is it about, if not any of those things?"

"I don't know!" yelled Henry; he gritted his teeth, staring at the tips of his boots. "Listen," he said, having to press the words out with force. "I'm not great at knowing what I want, okay? I do things on whims, because they seem logical—or for plain fun. But really wanting—let alone knowing why—" Henry exhaled, leaving the sentence unfinished. "My point is, I don't know why exactly—I just know that I have to do this. That this," he hesitated, "is what I . . . want. Period."

Thanatos was silent for a while. "Okay. Let us start with . . . What is it that you want?" he asked eventually. "To do, I mean? When you are there?"

For the first time, Henry looked up. "To . . . help," he said. "To do something useful. Something that is neither dishonest nor detrimental to the quest's cause." He paused. "To do what I neglected to do last time."

Thanatos remained still again, even longer this time. "And what will it gain you to do that?" he said. "You cannot turn back time or change anything that you did half a year ago. No matter what you do now."

"I know," hissed Henry. "But that is exactly it!" He clenched his fists, and when he looked up at Thanatos, he suddenly knew his answer. It was so obvious, honestly.

***

"I want to do this for me."

Thanatos froze at the iron resolve that oozed from every word out of Henry's mouth.

"We once spoke about how I motivate myself," the boy continued. "And what was that?"

Thanatos stared at him, attempting to comprehend what this had to do with . . . "To prove," he said slowly. "To prove . . . others wrong?"

"Yes," said Henry. "And?"

Thanatos frowned. He did not remember that conversation in so much detail, but the boy didn't seem to care. "I said that sometimes proving something to myself is enough too," he continued, and Thanatos' mouth opened.

Before he could speak, Henry took a step forward. "In their eyes, I am dead," he said. "Worse even—I would hardly be mourned or wanted back. So what I would like to prove is," he breathed in, "that I am more than that. More than what they would remember me for—the careless fool who allowed himself to be led on by fear. Who was a traitor . . . a villain. Because I am!" he yelled, his voice cracking. "I refused to let this one shitty mistake seal my fate when I decided that I would survive, and I still refuse it! To give up on them as they gave up on me! You hear? I won't have it! I'm not done yet!"

The words crashed into Thanatos like a brick wall, with every ounce of desperate determination they carried. It was so much that it was almost impossible to bear even hearing.

He had no idea what he had expected, but not this. Not from the boy. A thorn of guilt pierced his heart; had he also prematurely judged him? Labeled him as too conceited and self-centered to strive for something like genuine atonement?

Little did he know that it would be his pride that would lead him to crave atonement in the end. He was not just swimming in the sea in which everyone else drowned, Thanatos thought. He was swimming up.

"I see," he said after a silent moment that felt like an eternity. "But, Henry, how can you prove anything if they cannot learn your identity?"

"That's not the point!" the boy hissed. "I already told you that this is about proving something to myself! I am more than a weak, naive traitor, and I will prove that. Whatever it takes!"

All Thanatos could do was stare at Henry; never before had he been so unsure as to what to say. Was there anything the boy couldn't draw strength from? Thanatos wondered. Anything that he couldn't turn from a failure, a weakness, into an opportunity? Now, he sought to draw the courage to confront himself from his biggest moment of failure. And if he could do that . . . what could he not do?

An unexpected and powerful wave of respect for the boy overcame Thanatos, accompanied by a surge of shame. Henry had been an outcast for more or less half a year, and in that time he had accomplished more than Thanatos had thought to be possible. More than he had even dreamed of in the seven years that he had been out here.

But in that case . . . He looked up at Henry and fought a surge of unease. As foolish as his decision seemed, did Thanatos, or anyone, even have the right to deny him this?

***

"I said, whatever it takes," repeated Henry. With each moment that passed without Thanatos replying, he grew more restless.

"Even your life?" asked the flier finally, with a pensive look. "Even . . . everything that you are trying to build for yourself out here?"

Henry blew out a breath. "What I have achieved will not vanish into thin air, no matter what I do," he said. "But I must do this." And he did. He knew this with an almost frightening certainty.

"You regret this betrayal greatly, don't you?"

"Wouldn't I be a fool not to?"

"In that case . . . the question inevitably arises as to why you committed it in the first place."

An uncomfortable knot formed in Henry's gut. Even though he had honestly expected him to ask this much earlier. "I . . ." he averted his gaze. "I made a mistake. I miscalculated." He hadn't allowed himself to dwell on what mistake it had been ever since that night in the cave on the crawler island. But hadn't he an answer already? He had misplaced his trust . . . in Gorger and in Tonguetwist.

The thought of her clogged his throat, and he decided he would not talk to Thanatos about her. He would not admit to having fallen for the lies of a gnawer so foolishly.

"They . . . promised an end to the conflict between our species if I helped them capture Gregor—the Overland warrior, I mean," he hesitantly admitted. "The life of a stranger in exchange for peace," he scoffed. "It seemed . . . worth it, at the time."

"I see," Thanatos mumbled. "Though they also promised you power and recognition, no?"

"Perhaps!" he shot back. "It was—" What I deserved, he almost said. "But I never intended to harm them—my family and friends! Not really!" It sounded so naive in retrospect that he immediately wished he hadn't said it.

"Is that so?"

"Shut up!" Henry found himself taken back to his countless hours of feeling torn about this. He clenched his fist tighter. Had he . . . ever really been that naive? Or had he forced himself to not think about it too much, in fear he would arrive at a conclusion he would not like? "It hardly matters now!" He raised his gaze again. "The past is the past."

"Is making amends for your past not the reason for wanting to do this?"

"I mean that it is not your place to judge or question me!" Henry finally snapped. "Stop acting so high and noble. You pried into my past without my consent back then!"

"How did you expect me to agree to an alliance with someone I knew nothing about?"

"The same way I did!"

Thanatos' eyes widened.

"That's right!" Henry put his hands on his hips. "You pried into my past, yet what do I even know about you—to this day? You made it very clear you didn't want to talk about it, and I . . . didn't ask. So return the courtesy for once."

Thanatos looked at him pensively, with a hint of newfound guilt. "I did not consider this."

"Listen, it doesn't matter." It did—he was immensely curious—but he didn't say that. "I cannot change what I did—but what I can do is attempt to do it right this time. I . . . decide where I stand." Henry paused, allowing the sudden realization to sink in. He took a deep breath and looked directly at Thanatos. "Is that not what I must do? The last who will die must decide where he stands."

Upon the familiar line, the flier looked up.

"Remember?" Henry said, almost frightened by the amount of grim resolve he found in himself. "When you deciphered the Prophecy of Gray, you said that my predestined path led me out here and that there is still a choice for me to make. If that is true, I must still decide where I stand. Well," he scoffed. "So I've decided."

Thanatos was silent for a long time before he spoke again. "And what exactly is your plan, then?"

Henry's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in triumph . . . until he realized he had no answer to his question. "I . . . well . . ." He reached for Mys' hilt at the back of his hip. "Plans are for people who cannot improvise, right?"

Thanatos groaned. "And I was just beginning to think you've matured past your airhead phase. Listen, if we're actually doing this, we'll need a plan. And a good one, for that."

Henry kicked a pebble at him. "Oh, what do I need a plan for? I'll just head toward Regalia, and—wait, did you just say we?"

". . . I can hardly allow you to run into certain death by yourself, can I?"

A wave of happiness hit Henry and painted a wide grin on his face. "Of course not!" He grinned crookedly. "We can only ever run into certain death together, as we do!"

Thanatos threw him a glare, but all he said was: "As . . . we do."