He had Dorian back. Right there in front of him. Just for a moment he’d found what he’d been seeking but then the story didn’t go the way it was supposed to.
He thought he’d finally (finally) get that kiss and more than that and he replays those last moments over in his head wishing he’d known they were the last moments and even if he had known he doesn’t know now what he would have done, if he would have had time to react.
It was definitely Dorian, there on the shore of the Starless Sea. Maybe Dorian didn’t think it was him. He hadn’t thought Dorian was himself at first either, back in the snow. He’d raised the same sword then but this time Dorian did, in fact, know how to use it.
It feels as though all of the pieces were put in place to lead to this moment and he put half of them there himself.
He is mad at himself for so many things he did and didn’t do and how much time he wasted waiting for his life to begin and now it is over and then he has another thought and is suddenly, distinctly livid at someone else.
Zachary pulls himself to his feet and screams at Fate but Fate does not answer.
Fate does not live here.
Nothing lives here.
You’re here because I need you to do something that I can’t.
That’s what Mirabel had said, post–elevator crash and pre–everything else.
She needed him to die.
She knew.
She knew the entire time that this would happen.
Zachary tries to scream again but he doesn’t have the heart.
He sighs instead.
This isn’t fair. He’d barely gotten started. He was supposed to be in the middle of his story, not at the end or in whatever post-death epilogue this is.
He hasn’t even done anything. Accomplished anything. Has he? He doesn’t know. He located a man lost in time or maybe he became one. He made his way to the Starless Sea. He found what he sought and he lost it again, all in a single breath.
He tries to decide if he’s changed since this all started because isn’t that the point and he feels different than he did but he can’t weigh feeling different versus having changed from inside himself with no heartbeat, standing on a shore with no shoes.
A shore.
Zachary looks out at the sea. This is not the shore he stood on before, moments (was it moments?) before. It resembles it, including the cliffs behind him, but there are differences.
On this shore there is a boat.
A small rowboat, its oars neatly placed against its seat, half in the sea and half on the shore.
Waiting for him.
The sea surrounding it is blue. A bright, unnatural blue.
Zachary dips a toe into the blue and it flutters.
It is confetti. Paper confetti in varying shades of blue and green and purple, with white along the edges for the surf. As it stretches farther out from the shore there are streamers mixed in with it, long curls of paper pretending to be waves.
Zachary looks up at the looming structure on the cliff behind him that is undoubtedly a castle, though it is constructed from painted cardboard. He can tell from here that it is only a facade, two walls with windows lacking structure and dimension. The idea of a castle painted and propped up to fool the eye from a greater distance than this.
Beyond the castle there are stars: giant folded-paper stars hanging from strings that vanish into darkness. Shooting stars suspended mid-shoot and planets at various heights with and without rings. An entire universe.
Zachary turns and looks out over the paper water.
There is a city across the sea.