Anya's knock pulled me from the memory like a hook in my heart. The cold tiles, the pills, the laughter—it all vanished, replaced by the oppressive silence of my obsidian room.
"Breakfast is ready, Master."
I didn't answer. I just sat on the floor, my knees pulled to my chest, breathing in the scent of my own hellfire. The memory wasn't a dream. It was a bone-deep truth. I was still that boy on the bathroom floor. Everything that came after—the power, the castle, the fear I inspired—it was all just… noise. A desperate, violent costume I'd put on to hide the fact that I was still just a scared kid who didn't want to be alone.
I finally stood and opened the door. Anya stood there, a tray in her hands. Steaming black bread, a piece of strange, glowing fruit, and a cup of something that smelled like ozone and regret.
She didn't come in. She just offered the tray, her eyes doing that quick, efficient scan of my face. She saw everything. She always did.
"You remember," she stated. It wasn't a question.
"Enough," I mumbled, taking the tray. My voice was the one from the memory. Small. Tired.
I set the tray on a ledge by the window that looked out onto the swirling, grey vortex. I picked at the bread. It tasted like ashes.
For two years, I'd been Cinder. I had a purpose. A partner. A reputation to build. I thought the point was to be the king of the bottom of the world. To be the baddest monster in the pit. I was so busy being strong down here, I never once stopped to look up. I never once thought there could be a way out.
But that guy… that Cinder… he was just running. He was building a fortress to hide in. He was collecting people to prove he wasn't alone. He was fighting harder and harder so he wouldn't have to stop and feel that old, familiar cold.
The memory leeches didn't just take my past. They stripped me bare. They took the costume.
And now I'm just me again. Leith. The boy who wanted the pain to stop.
I looked out at the endless, bleak horror of Purgatory. The swirling grey, the screams on the wind, the constant, grinding despair. This was it. This was the forever I'd earned.
A thought, quiet and clear, cut through the noise in my head.
I don't want to be the king of the pit.
I just want to get out of the pit.
Maybe… maybe there was a way up. Not just around. Up. To wherever the light was. To wherever the quiet was. To a place where the air didn't smell of regret and the ground wasn't made of sorrow.
Heaven. Paradise. Whatever they called it.
It wasn't about finding my memories anymore. It was about finding peace. The peace I'd been looking for my whole life, and my whole death.
Maybe, if I could just reach it… I could finally stop running. I could finally stop fighting.
I could just… be done.
I turned from the window, my breakfast untouched.
I had a new purpose. A simpler one.
I was going to climb.
Without saying anything, I went to the wardrobe and pushed past the dark, armored outfits. In the back, I found something simple. Dark, sturdy pants and a plain, grey tunic. Clothes for moving, not for intimidating.
I found a sharp knife on a dressing table. I looked at my reflection in the obsidian wall—the tired eyes of the A-Rank hunter, the set jaw of Cinder. I grabbed a handful of my hair and sawed it off, letting the dark strands fall to the floor. Then I cut more, until it was short and messy. Until the guy staring back at me just looked like a scared, determined kid.
I looked like Leith.
I turned and walked out of my room, down the hall, past the terrifying trophy of the Wailing Void's armor, and straight toward the main door. Anya was there, waiting. She said nothing. She just looked at my hair, my clothes, and gave a single, slow nod. She understood. She opened the door for me.
I stepped outside, into the ashen air of my terrace, and didn't look back at the fortress of petrified flame.
I didn't need a castle. I needed a path.
I wanted to climb to Heaven.