"Sniff... Sniff" Jonathan tries to clean up his rather messy circumstance, wiping his face with a torn piece of exquisite cloth.

"You good?" Graham asks.

"Yeah... Sorry, thanks for letting me let that all out," Jonathan thanks sincerely. "I feel much better, emotionally speaking."

I smile in response accordingly, much more naturally and easily. Graham nods as per usual.

"So, what now?" Jonathan asks. "What's the plan? What will we do from here on out?"

We all look ahead at the vast, battle-scarred room, all in similar wonder.

"Well..." Graham says, "I don't suppose you'd like to split up. From here on out, we're going to move together as a party. First, we'll collect the spoils, and then we'll move back. We'll check all the previous rooms not yet explored by Ely and I, in respect to the deceased, then once we've got that covered, we'll progress ahead. I have no idea what the future will hold." Graham sighs. " Let's stick together to find out."

"... Yeah. That sounds good." Jonathan agrees.

"Gotcha, Graham," I reply.

I imagine in my head a text box that reads Jonathan and the little girl join your party! Party +2!

Oh yeah, the little girl.

"But what about the little girl?" I ask.

"Well, she's obviously coming with us. We're not leaving her behind," Graham says.

"Yeah, I know that, but how will she fit into our party? We know nothing about her - not even her name. And she's saved our lives - she's not as fragile as we imagine her to be."

"I... suppose. You have a point. We've yet to even know her name. I'm not against having to protect her entirely, but I'd at least would like to know her name to build at least some familiarity and trust needed for our group to function efficiently. And her ability is beyond expectation. She must have some reason for concealing such power." Graham contemplates.

"Asking her might be tough," Jonathan chimes in. "Archie tried on multiple occasions himself, but she remained silent. With what just happened, I'd find it hard to make progress now..."

Just as we are butting heads together figuring out how to handle this, an unknown voice rings from somewhere.

"Maryam."

"...? Ah!" Graham starts like a frightened little girl. In fact we all start, with Graham the most alarmed.

"W-What?" Jonathan asks.

"... Where did you come from?" I ask surprised.

From out of nowhere the little girl appeared amongst us unbeknownst. We only noticed her when she suddenly spoke out.

"... I just walked here," the little girl says, very faintly and timidly.

Jonathan's eyes pop in disbelief. "She's talking." He whispers almost inaudibly.

Almost. The little girl fidgets a little nervously.

Graham, after recovering from his shaken demeanor, takes a moment to carefully plan out his next course of action.

"Ah, please don't scare me like that... I'm terrible with surprises." Graham breathes out his acute tension. Graham asks, "What were you saying earlier? Maryam? Is that what you said? Is that possibly your name?"

The little girl, when making eye contact with the very adult-like and formal-in-nature Graham, shrinks. Quickly and hurriedly, she scurries around me and then to Jonathan, trying to hide ineffectively behind Jonathan's back.

Graham is shocked. Completely. He frowns disappointedly, disappointed probably in himself. Meanwhile, Jonathan is wildly flustered, still suffering the earlier (not distressed like Graham who's now evidently disappointed) shock. I scrunch my eyebrows and shake my head helplessly, and the little girl peeks out from behind the cover of Jonathan's back, which is not very broad and not much taller than her.

"... yes..." the little girl, or Maryam, squeaks very softly. "My name is Maryam. M-Maryam Rye."

At this, Graham and I stare at each other in odd disbelief and realization. We are taken aback. Jonathan still's rather confused and flustered. But, he changes his focus to Graham and I, appearing more perplexed now.

"Maryam? Maryam Rye?" I ask.

"Yeah," Graham sighs. "Seems to be it."

"You think?"

"If I recall correctly."

"But, the odds-"

"Certainly. But there's little room for-"

"Doubt. I see. Well, what a-"

"Coincidence? Apparently, but..."

"But? But what?"

"Nevermind. I'm just pondering."

"W-What's going on? What are you talking about? Huh?" Jonathan asks in peak perplexity. Meanwhile, Maryam, in her embarassment from being seen and discussed openly by 'scary adults', clings to Jonathan's back , digging her claws into his shoulders. "Ah! Ah! Oi, cut it!" Jonathan panickedly shrieks.

Graham raises an eyebrow. I raise two. Jonathan also raises two, but his in an act of bewildered confusion. Maryam's eyebrows are buried in Jonathan's back.

"Jonathan," I speak disregardingly, "do you remember the announcement not too long ago? Not today, but more than a week ago. The second official dream dungeon announcement. There was someone in particular mentioned."

"Right," Graham continues my line of speech, "a particular individual who cleared the second boss room - a one-star boss room. If you also remember, the prospect of meeting the mastermind behind all of this was also mentioned. If you could make it to room 1,000,000, you'd find him or her or 'it' there. Of course, that's not the subject of our attention. Jonathan, do you remember the person described by the 'announcer' in the announcement?"

"Umm..." Jonathan frowns. "The second announcement. Wasn't it a child? A child, right? If I remember right, he was 9-years-old... But, what was his name?"

"Keep thinking." I egg him on.

"9-years-old... Marth? No, Mary? But in that case it was a girl... Mary..? ..!" Jonathan's eyes flicker in realization. He turns around and stares at Maryam.

Maryam. Mary. Gee. I scratch behind my ear.

"You're serious? I was half-paying attention to the announcement, and never would I have considered I'd..." Jonathan trails off disbelievingly.

Maryam releases her grip off Jonathan, her remaining reservoir of comfort, and backs away with shallow eyes, casting downwards depressingly. After moving far enough away, she stops, with her arms and hands to her chest close together.

"Maryam. Maryam Rye. You're the second 'conqueror' of a boss dungeon room, correct? It's the reason you were able to save us all, from where you received your mind-blowing powers. I can't imagine anything less than a boss room weapon," Graham analytically states.

Maryam frowns. She doesn't say anything.

"That's impossible... What..? Is that why we found you in such a horrid room? But..." Jonathan mumbles to himself.

Maryam remains silent.

"Two boss room conquerors, together. What are the odds?" Graham states.

Maryam remains silent.

"This is too much of a coincidence to be true. It's almost unreal. Much like this dungeon," I add.

"But it is," Graham complements my thought.

"Precisely," I agree.

"M-Maryam? How? There's no way," Jonathan continues to drone on.

Maryam remains silent. Until she doesn't.

"... are..." Maryam speaks in an almost inaudible tone, more inaudible than Jonathan's earlier. "... are you afraid of me? Do you hate me? W-will you l-leave me?" Her voice shakes so painfully and so sorrowfully.

She starts crying, for the first time, very softly but oh so sorrowfully. We all stop our idle and independent chatter and focus on her, sharing our remorse.

We look at each other for a moment, unsure what to do. Then, Graham makes the initiative and without rush he slowly walks up to her. Gently, he crouches down on one knee and forces eye contact with her. First he smiles. Then he frowns, rather angrily, but a gentle sort of anger parents mimic to discipline their children caringly.

"What are you saying? There's no way on earth or in hell - err, please excuse my language - or in this dream dungeon will we ever abandon you," Graham sternfully displines.

Maryam slows her sobbing and sniffles quite a bit, opening her eyes a bit more now.

I follow up. Walking towards them, I cross my arms imposingly, mimicing Graham. "Graham's correct. You're speaking nonsense. We won't leave you. We don't hate you. Nor are we afraid of you. I'm actually relieved you aren't entirely afraid of us, not with the power we demonstrated and with us being adults and strangers. I don't know what you've been through to end up broken, but we - Graham, Jonathan, and I, and I'm sure Archie and even Barry too - wouldn't and won't torment you. We're not bad people. I promise." I let out all my immediate thoughts. Without any hint of uncertainty, I spill out my honest feelings. A rather sudden spiel, but an honest one at that.

Maryam mostly ceases to cry. She wipes her face. Graham hands her a piece of cloth.

She blows her nose, rather loudly.

The sound echoes subtly throughout the big, open, metal-ridden dungeon room.

There's been an awful lot of crying today - err, tonight. It's not... bad. It's good, I think.

There's also been a lot of awful things that happened today. Nonetheless, our lives continue - the world continues to spin and we can share this moment together. And many more moments in the future, I presume. When our lives and feelings overlap, we can truly live in the moment. Living is what we need in this treacherous environment.

And to live is what we'll die for. This applies to all of us, I think. I can feel it, in this moment and in moments past and in future ones I'm sure.

"Maryam, why would you say such sad things?" Jonathan says as he slowly walks up to us.

Maryam meets Jonathan's gaze.

"I don't know what you're thinking of, but you're completely insane, you hear that? Completely insane. What Ely said: we'll never do any of that. Never. Ever. Not in our lives. Not in forever," Jonathan weakly reprimands.

With very small tears in her eyes, Maryam responds very subtlely. "Thank you."

In a seconds notice, Maryam collapses herself in Jonathan's arms, with her eyes shut tightly, wrapped very comfortably and innocently in Jonathan's embrace. Jonathan doesn't shy away this time. He takes her and squeezes tightly, his face frustrated in pained agony.

Jonathan breathes in and out.

Maryam chokes on her throat, air escaping in short bursts.

Then they both wail.

From small sobs to great ones. From small tears to monumentous rivers, feeding into a non-existent ocean fueled by a larger reservoir of emotions.

In each other's comfort, they wail, they cry, louder than ever before. Chilling howls fill the dark, dim, empty room. Their voices in this environment appear like howls of wolves, crying out in the moonlight. There is no moon - just torches like candles or matches in the distance and an obscured "Schrödinger's cat" of a ceiling.

It's honest. It's honest, it's sincere, and very genuine. It's not pretty - but so is the weight they and we all have been forced to carry. Three weeks in the dungeon does things to you. To last so long in such a stressful and uncertain environment is taxing. To release it all - it must feel good. Liberating, I suppose. I'm reminded of my first two days.

...

It's certainly painful.

"It's certainly beautiful, isn't it?" Graham comments, directly contrasting my thoughts. "To open yourself so freely and to not hold back anymore without regard. Definitely, it's something to behold."

I ponder for a bit. "Yeah, certainly. It's very child-like and innocent. But, it's freeing," I respond. "Beautiful" is a good way to describe it, an interpretation that's not wrong in the slightest. Beautiful and child-like and innocent - those terms are very interconnect in more ways than one.

"Child-like and innocent... Those are applicable terms," Graham says, then turns to me. "Ely, what about you? You're a teenager as well, just like Jonathan, yet you..." Graham pauses. "Forget it, that was rude of me."

"No, it's fine," I reply, "I understand what you mean. I'd... rather not. I've had my share of 'public' sorrow... I'm past that."

"Past that, huh? Is that possible? Are you saying you're an adult?"

"In a way, yes. Also in a way, no. I..." I find myself at a dead end momentarily. I think back to the the night after. Her pool of blood and my loneliness. "Graham, you're an adult. Do you feel compelled?"

"Yes, very, so much so I wish I weren't. This may just apply to me. I'm very partial to heartbreak; it's what's compelled me to do my job." Graham sighs. "Fortunately I'm adept enough not to break down, for good or for bad, at least completely, as any sensible adult could or maybe would. Maybe adept's not the right word, but I certainly have some sufficient enough experience that comes with age - that is, except for my incident earlier. But is that what constitutes as being an adult? Or at least is a veritable mark of age or maturation? I've seen many clients at work that are adults but live in a very simplified state of mind, due to fear and other various horrifying factors. Maybe that's what we're witnessing. But don't get it twisted. I'm much older than you and I've seen more of the world than you, but I'm not much different in some ways than you or Jonathan or Maryam. In a lot of ways, actually. We're all human. We're all people. I know, to you, I seem very mature. But I'm not as great or mature as you think, evidenced by my little frustrated tantrum earlier."

"... It's the same for me. You've seen some of my... less favorable moments. And some you haven't."

More pictures of her flash in my mind. Of my crazed anger and emptiness. And that's nothing compared to what others may be experiencing or have experienced. Everyone has their own weight. Graham, I'm sure he understands.

"That applies to all of us," Graham says.

He does.

We pause.

"Ely, what do you think?" Graham asks. "Looking at the two of them, how would you describe this scene? Would you agree and say it's beautiful?"

I turn to Jonathan and Maryam who are still very very messily wrapped into each other's sorrows. I think for a moment, considering everything thus far. Reaching a very simple conclusion, I then turn back to Graham.

"No, I don't feel beautiful's the right term. If I were to pick a term, I'd say it's..."

"Magical?" Graham finishes my sentence.

"Exactly." I smile at him. He smiles back.

It all feels like a dream.

...

After moments of reserve to both Jonathan and Maryam, Graham and I timely approach them, first allowing them to at last reach their peace, even if temporarily.

"We have yet to introduce ourselves, have we?" Graham says taking the initiative.

Both Jonathan and Maryam look towards us, Maryam moreso up than directly parallel. Jonathan stretches his limbs and exhales.

"Right. We haven't formally met. There's been so much craziness." Jonathan clears his throat and says to no particular person, "I-I'm Jonathan Hesselius, a high schooler at Bridgeton high school. Umm... I live with my parents in the East Coast. I think everyone here lives in the U.S." Jonathan glances at Maryam. "I-I'm also an only child, and I really like cooking. N-nice to meet you." He stutters a bit.

"Likewise," Graham says, stretching out a hand very business-like. "Just call me Graham. I'm a simple criminal defense lawyer. I have a wife. She's a bombshell, I tell you. I also love suits, and wouldn't trade her for a world of suits." Graham laughs very lightly, very uncharacteristically. Jonathan awkwardly meets his hand with his own and smiles back.

What very straightforward and honest responses. It feels warm.

Wait, Bridgeton?

I suddenly recall something.

"Jonathan, you said Bridgeton? Bridgeton high school? Is it in Standford County?" I ask.

"Hmm? Actually, yeah. Standford County, that's correct." Jonathan replies.

No way.

I clear my throat.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ely. Ely Codeman. I enjoy playing Phantasm, the JRPG series. I have a small family, with two parents and one sister whom I love. And I also go to Rivenburg high school, in Wellside County." I make my greetings and stretch my hand out similarly to Jonathan.

"Wait, Wellside County? The county below Standford?" Jonathan asks.

"Yep. I'm about an hour and a half away from Bridgeton," I reply.

"That's crazy. What a small world." Jonathan shakes my hand.

"Also, cooking? That's interesting. Can you bake?" I inquire.

"Hmm? Yeah. I can bake pretty well. I don't really make pastries all too much, so I don't have a baker's variety and expertise, but the simple pastries I can make, I think I can make well."

"Can you make cookies?"

"Yeah. They're pretty good and fun to make. Why?"

"Just wondering." I turn away.

Graham is shaking his head. I glare at him.

"Umm... excuse me," Maryam quietly intervenes. Nervously, she splits between Jonathan and I. Her hands clenched and close to her, she squeezes out timid words to the both of us.

"My name is Maryam. M-Maryam Rye. I love cute things, my parents, school, and sugary foods. I also like my friends."

We all smile. She's doing her best to confront us and familiarize herself. It takes a lot of courage, especially considering her age and our scenario.

"Oh," Maryam adds, "I don't like cooking though. I hate it. Sorry, Jonathan."

"I-it's fine. It's not for everyone," Jonathan stumbles over his words. Recovering, he says to Maryam, "My name is Jonathan Hesselius. If we meet one day in real life, I'll cook you something sweet and sugary."

"Hessessius? That's one crazy name!" Maryam exclaims.

"Hesselius. It's Swedish. And I agree, I wish I was born with an easier last name," Jonathan complains.

"Husseslios?" Maryam bites her tongue struggling to say his name. She has a slight lisp.

"No, Hesselius. Hesselius." Jonathan adds clarity.

"Hesselios. Huesselia... Hess..."

"Hello, my name is Ely Codeman. I'm around the same age as Jonathan, so there's no need to be afraid of me. I love games and I study a lot," Turning to Maryam, I cut her and Jonathan's dangerously running conversation short. Jonathan shoots me a grateful glance.

"Nice to meet you. I am Maryam." Repeating her introduction, Maryam bows aptly, acting much less afraid of me than before.

Cute...

"I feel compelled to ask. Maryam, do you like cookies?" I ask randomly.

"Yes! I love them! Especially Macadamia nut and chocolate chip!" she exclaims enthusiastically, smiling for the first time.

I start in shock.

Did I find my kindred spirit?

I nod very assertively in my mind. Right. Perfect choice of taste! I feel we'll get along really well.

"And I'm Graham," Graham interrupts my thoughts and says politely in a kind tone to Maryam. He crouches down to her level like before. "Nice to meet you. Treat me like your uncle. I hope we get along."

Maryam is a little hesitant, but confidently meets Graham face on. "Nice to meet you, uncle Graham. Is that okay? If, if I call you that? My name is Maryam Rye. I love Macadamia nut and chocolate chip cookies and a lot of other things." Maryam bows courtly.

So...

So cute...

I feel I'm about to swoon any minute now from such unforeseen dangers... I glance and Graham and see even him startled and affected.

Both of us quickly recover.

"T-that's fine. Uncle Graham is... nice..." Graham stutters.

Woah. What?

Graham slipped up his words?

What is going on?

"Ahem." Graham, back to his quick cool nature, calls us to attention. "Now that we've all formally acquainted, let's discuss our future plans. From here on out, we'll support eachother as a cohesive group. We'll fight through each room and save whoever we can. But most importantly, I want everyone to remember, and I've realized it myself, that we can't save everyone. Let's... let's hope things don't ever get severe enough to where we'll have to make the types of decisions Barry made. But, I have trust in our strength. We've made it pretty far but there's a lot of room to cover. We may not reach that ideal image that I've sought dearly, but we can try, and we will try our hardest. Are we clear?"

"""Yes!""" we all reply simultaneously.

"Good. Now, before we discuss anything further, we have to confront the elephant in the room." Graham pauses. Maryam looks around curiously.

"Elephant?" she asks innocently.

"No, not a real elephant, Maryam," Jonathan says.

"...Maryam," Graham calls.

"Yes, uncle Graham?" Maryam replies timidly. I suppose she doesn't like direct questionings.

"About your power... I'm sorry I have to be abrupt with this, but this is critical towards our plan of staying alive and surviving together. We need to know... is your power something we can rely on?" Graham drops the bomb of our most immediate question.

"..." Maryam quiets and looks away, distressed.

We wait for her to answer. Graham's not making any moves to take back his words or prompt her. He's just waiting silently. Jonathan and I do the same. Maryam continues to look away from us, thinking deeply, a frown subtly forming on her young face.

"I..." she finally says, weakly, "I can't promise you... The ice... it's scary... very scary... I, I don't want to become like... like the scary ice princess. She's not cute at all and only very scary... This ice... is only scary and causes death."

"You don't have to say anymore, we understand," Graham cuts her off, not allowing her to snowball back into sorrow.

But...

"But... I will not be useless anymore. For everyone, I will become strong. I will learn how to use this power and not be afraid - for everyone - Jonathan, Ely, and you too, uncle Graham! And, and, and Archie... And, and even Barry... And..."

Maryam stops. Suddenly, a warm hand pats her head comfortably and caringly. She looks up and sees Graham.

"Well said. I'm glad you care and you're willing to fight. It's going to be hard and sad at times, but we'll be here. Remember, we're carrying the torches of everyone before us. Maryam, don't rush yourself, but... well said." Graham smiles.

Maryam smiles and hugs Graham surprisingly.

Graham freezes, unsure of what to do. He looks at us with pronounced panic.

'W-w-w-w-what should I do?' he seems to insinuate with his eyes.

Jonathan and I smirk.

'You're on your own,' we both say with our glance towards Graham in a mischevious manner.

'You two..!' he mouths hastily. My image of Graham has been forever broken this night. I always imagined him to be so mature and cool. Even in the midst of extreme danger he didn't crack his very strong shell of demeanor. Yet here he is, and he himself admitted, he's not flawless in his ideals, and certainly not my ideals of him. But that doesn't make him any less of the person he was and is. Being more human is a good thing.

Yep.

"Hey Ely," Jonathan prompts me, "thanks for helping lighten the atmosphere, you and Graham both. It's nice to have moments like these, especially after such a difficult time. Still, I will never forget the people that died here today."

I look back at Graham and Maryam for a moment, Graham very obviously distressed in ways I've never seen before and Maryam playfully embracing Graham with all her being. Jonathan's right. This cold and dark room feels at least a little less cold and dark.

People have died - that's a fact - and our current actions deceive, but they don't hide what we all know to be true.

Yet...

"Yep," I respond. Although I don't feel nearly as much sentiment as do Jonathan, I can surely share in his.

There is certainly value in looking ahead while treasuring and accepting which is in some ways holding onto what we will from the past.

After some time and some more sentiment, Maryman finally lets go of Graham and we get back to business.

"Thanks for leaving me back there," Graham says disappointedly.

"No problem," Jonathan says with a wink.

I smirk.

"Graham... was I a bother? Do you not like me?" Maryam asks with upturned eyes.

"No, no way, that's not the case!" Graham hastily, again temporarily losing his cool. Is... Graham bad with children?

Mental note taken.

"Let's stop the shenanigans. So, now that we're a group, I want to go over our roles and our general strategy moving forward. To recap what's been said before, in Archie's respects we will check out and clear the lower floors to check for survivors. Then we'll move forward. Maryam and I will be the rearguard mages, while Ely, you will be the vanguard and main physical assault force. Jonathan, you'll be with Maryam and me, but you'll act more like a buffer between the vanguard and rearguard, and you're responsible for protecting us when Ely can't. I will serve that role also, but as I heard, you have some proficiency with a dagger, correct?"

"Yes, back in my old group, I was part of the vanguard with Barry before I learned spells. I'm not as good as Ely, but I can manage," Jonathan replies.

"Good," Graham says. "That's the general gist of it. There's a lot of unknown, but, at least we've got each other. And hopefully, hopefully it'll stay like that. We'll go over more specifics after we check our rewards." Graham picks up his staff that he set aside earlier beside Cheryl. Actually...

"Hey Graham, what is that staff?" I ask. "I've never seen that before. Is it..?"

"Yes, one of the dungeon rewards," Graham finishes and affirms my thought. The staff in his hand glimmers lightly due to the soft torch lighting surrounding us. It looks very mystical. "This was right before I came over to check on you. I found this very becoming staff in the reward chest. I haven't had the pleasure to check it out just yet. Tell me, what do these staffs usually do? Pardon my lack of knowledge, Ely, I'd think you might know, from your games and all that."

"Staffs?" I think for a short moment and say, "Staffs or staves are the popular choice of equipment for mages or any ranged spellcasters. Different staffs have different abilities, but they're generally all made for some sort of magic use. While a mage can use a physical weapon, even if not very efficiently, warriors have probably no use for a staff - but the details differ from franchise to franchise, I'm speaking from a 'Phantasm'-point-of-view. Generally, staffs deal magic damage through spells based on one's stats and may amplify damage or provide other buffs depending on the staff. Definitely, those with staffs have an advantage over those without. It's common knowledge that mages or healers equip staffs." I easily drop an info-bomb on Graham and our party. Years of Phantasm still has its evident influence. Maryam looks dazed while Jonathan and Graham are taking time to comprehend the exposition.

"Right. So, this staff is very beneficial to us. With its appearance, I doubt its simply a damage amplifier. Jonathan, since the two of us can cast magic, would you like to use this?" Graham asks.

"I'm fine. You can have it if you want. I owe you - and Ely and everyone else, including Maryam - my life, so it's natural that you get the staff. You guys stayed with us and helped us last to the very end and beyond," Jonathan says. "You're also our leader, so it's more correct if you have it."

"I'll take your reasoning. And also, what Jonathan said - is everyone alright if I lead? I must properly ask for a consensus before I continue."

"Yes. Graham, you're a more-than-suitable leader," I say.

"I also think Graham is a good leader," Maryam assents.

"And you've heard my thoughts. I also agree with everyone else," Jonathan says.

"Alright. I thank everyone here for allowing me to lead the group. Sincerely, thank you." Graham bows formally. "Oh, right. Maryam. How does your 'magic' work? Would this staff benefit you?"

"Umm.. the ice powers are in this little ring," Maryam says, extending her left hand up to showcase a ring fit snugly on her pointer finger. It's very dazzling with a huge, crystal clear gem, like a pure diamond, the size of a ring pop. It shimmers and looks picture perfect.

It's the biggest gem in a ring I've ever seen.

I give my insights. "I don't think it'll serve much use to her. The staff is like an intermediary, considering you can already cast magic without a staff, to the actual spells casted. The ring is probably already her intermediary, and it'd serve more use if it were utilized by you or Jonathan who don't have any such weaponry or equipment."

"Sounds reasonable. We'll discuss more after we check out the rewards. Let's go," Graham prompts. He starts walking ahead, Maryam follows.

Looking at Maryam, I recall the "ice princess" she mentioned earlier. I wonder who that is, and what that might be about. A "scary" ice princess, whose ring, which I assume originally would belong to her as does my blade to its monster, that powers over ice which causes only death. Terrifying death, which death much already is. I'm have a subtle feeling this won't be the end of it.

I shake my head vigorously to clear my thoughts.

I was going to follow as well, but I see Jonathan crouched over, staring at the ground. He picks something up - an antique golden chain necklace, with a pendant. I don't get to see exactly what the pendant says, as Jonathan firmly clasps it in his right hand and tightly clenches it into his fist.

"Jonathan..?" I ask cautiously.

Jonathan peeks over his shoulders at me. "Oh, Ely. Sorry about that. I just found Archie's necklace. He said it was a family heirloom. His grandmother passed it onto him," Jonathan says slightly sadly.

A necklace? I don't remember seeing a necklace with a pendant on Archie. Maybe it was hidden, also I probably didn't notice it because I was too preoccupied with the fight.

Jonathan stores it into his pocket quickly. He doesn't fret this time. It seems he really did let everything out. He seems much more at peace, even if slightly troubled. But, much more at peace.

"Before we leave, we should check for any other leftover belongings. These things may exist in the real world, but they also exist here very genuinely - with substance and very real reality. It know it's weird to loot the dead, but I feel that I have to do this. For keepsake and for memory. You know what I mean?" Jonathan says and asks slightly anxiously.

"Yeah, I know." After all, I name my weapon after my dead crush.

Heavy...

"Oh..." Jonathan grips his head with his open left hand, covering his left eye. He starts to swing slightly. "Looks like it's time to go. I'll see you... all... next time..." Jonathan falls back and right before hitting the ground, vanishes discreetly, like a puff of air.

I slowly feel tiredness creeping up on me. My consciousness floats away slowly but surely.

"Jonathan?" Graham asks while very quickly turning around. After noticing Jonathan's missing and my apparent distractedness, he says hastily, "It's 5 A.M. already, huh. Ely, we'll meet up again tomorrow. Maryam and I'll go ahead to the reward chest, and we'll inform you guys next time we're together. Can you hear me?"

I nod rather haphazardly, and I feel less responsive by the second...

I can very faintly see Graham and Maryam. Maryam's waving off to me very reservedly...

I think...

"See you," Graham says.

I think...

I wonder why it's taking so long for me to...

..

.

.

.

... wake up?

My eyes open. I'm staring at a ceiling - a ceiling I can make out.

I'm back in my room. It's dark, but not sinisterly dark or dark that's at least a little less dark. And it's morning.

I gulp, almost choking on my spit. The room feels cold yet cozy. Not cold as in a cold that's at least a little less cold. Very certainly a cozy that's very much the definition of the word and not some jumbled but familiar nuance. But, familiar in different ways, in gladly different ways. Cold and cozy - two very starking contrasts.

And, for some reason, to my surprise, I find myself waking up to be crying. Tears fall down the side of my face slowly, inching closer and closer to the bed, and my pillow. Also to my surprise, my pillow is soaked.

Soaked in my tears.

I think back to my conversation with Graham, the both of us watching Maryam and Jonathan sharing great sadness together. "Public sorrow"? I said I was "past" that, that I'd rather not.

But apparently, I'd rather. I am foolish. What's the difference between crying inside and crying outwardly? I guess I'm as adult as Graham depicts. But, in contrary, it doesn't feel sensible - not at all.

I wonder why I acted such a way, as if I were living past it all, that I can shed no more tears because all my tears were "depleted", at least for the moment or moments. I assumed I reached Jonathan and Maryam's point of liberation, liberation which was achieved by really letting everything go - something that I may not have done, and even Graham. I assumed it all, I assumed I just couldn't reveal for my reveal's "past". And I assumed wrong.

I guess I can cry after all.