"He's... he's not waking up," Eris said to them when they returned. They stood outside the room with the door closed, the hallways silent. "His heart is beating again, his—body is alive, but... he's still unconscious."

    Mark clutched onto Dark's cloak, doubt weighing over him.

    "It's going to be a while..." Eris continued.

    Equinox sighed, and she nodded. "Can we go inside, at least?" she asked, and Mark glanced up, hope glittering in his eyes.

    Eris nodded. "Just be careful," ze said softly. "His body is still damaged. It's not healing properly, like it should."

    Mark figured it was the pill. That blasted Cherub.

    Eris stepped aside to let them through, and Equinox opened the door and led the others inside. They all walked around the room, footsteps quiet, and settled about their own places.

    Equinox stood near the bed, watching Dark; Voxe sat on the windowsill (where Mark couldn't stand to look); and Eyes sat on the floor, picking at the carpet. As much as Mark wanted to be as close to Dark as possible—to embrace him, be there for him—he had been instructed to keep contact at a minimum. Instead, he sat in front of the vanity desk, gazing at himself in the mirror.

    He looked like a wreck. But then again, all of them did.

    He gently ran his fingers along the cut across his face—deep, diagonal, and still oozing with blood. The slash started high on his cheekbone, slanting down, across his lip, and ending at his jaw. It would most definitely scar. A permanent reminder of what Antinstine did to him. Did to the others, to everyone.

    Mark glanced over his shoulder, eyeing Dark's body on the bed. His breathing had come back—deathly shallow—but his chest rose and fell nonetheless.

    His eyes landed on the cut across his throat.

    It was closed, now—most likely from Eris' powers—but it left an obvious, stark scar. The cut looked unnatural without all the blood. Out of place.

    Mark turned back around and ran his thumb over Dark's cloak in his lap, his expressions numb. He recalled the bodies in the infirmary, and all those mourning faces. Only a sparse few Evolveds had requested for Eris, wanting zem to bring their loved ones back. The majority of them, however, accepted the deaths.

If people would rather grieve their hearts out than revive their loved ones, then Mark really began to question if he made the right choice or not.

What if Dark... wanted to die?

His chest tightened, and he shoved the thought away.

He didn't want to think about that.

And then there was Prada.

They met, briefly, before they left the infirmary. He gripped onto a young girl's hand—Pearl—and when Mark had realized who she was, the guilt only ate up at him more.

He should have moved.

Would Pearl even understand the concept of death?

Why didn't he move?

Mark recalled Prada's hushed voice and his weary gaze. He didn't want Pearl to hear what they were saying.

He had asked about Cibil, and when Mark told him the news, his face fell.

They both glanced over at Pearl.

"She's just a kid," Mark had said quietly, searching Prada's face. "That Necromancer, Eris—they can revive her."

Mark screwed his eyes shut at the memory, the guilt eating away at him from the inside out. Prada's answer chilled him to the core.

"Seers can't be revived," he had said.

Mark clutched onto Dark's cloak and buried his face in it, ignoring the sting of the cut on his face.

"It's a trade with the universe," Prada sighed, voice tight. "Seers are granted visions, and in turn, they only have one life." He glanced over his shoulder at Pearl. "Being able to look into the future... that's their second chance."

Dread weighed over Mark.

He didn't want to think about Pearl and Prada anymore; didn't want to think about them going into Cibil's room, where her dead body lay. He didn't want to think about Pearl's face when she saw her, or how she would run up to the bed and shake Cibil's body, begging her to wake up.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he lifted his head, meeting Voxe's gaze.

They'd all lost something, he realized, when he glanced around the room at the others.

Pearl lost a sister, Voxe lost a brother... Mark nearly lost Dark, and—as far as he knew—Dark lost Xilef, his right hand man.

And what about Ethan? he thought. Ethan was looking for Konray. Konray was brought back to the mansion. Ethan wasn't.

Mark swallowed, and he glanced up at Voxe. He needed answers.

"Where's Konray being kept?" he breathed.

Voxe met his eyes, glanced over zir shoulder at Eyes for a moment, then turned back to Mark. Zir hand tightened over his shoulder.

"Come on," ze breathed, patting his back. "I'll lead you there."

———

The mansion felt dead as they walked down the halls.

They stopped in front of one of the many doors, and Voxe gently knocked. A struggled reply came through the wood.

Voxe opened the door, and ze and Mark walked inside, careful.

Konray laid in a bed with the sheets at her waist, her eyes closed and brows furrowed. Ether sat next to the bed, her life hanging on threads—eyes drooping and skin charred and damaged. Her hand ghosted over Konray's stomach, shaking, green wisps sputtering in an attempt to heal her wounds.

Konray struggled to open her eyes, and Mark swallowed when they made eye contact.

She looked... devastated.

That sense of wrong built up in Mark's chest until he felt like he was drowning.

"You're... who I think you are," breathed Konray, her voice breaking. "Aren't you?" She swallowed, and she glanced away, unable to look at him any longer.

Mark glanced at Voxe, and ze simply nodded, standing near the door. He carefully walked forward and stood beside the bed, gazing down at Konray. Ether pulled away to give them space and sagged into her chair, heaving for breath.

"Yeah..." muttered Mark. "I'm Ethan's friend. Mark. The one who..." He forced out a chuckle that wasn't returned. "...got us into this mess."

Konray's lower lip quivered, and she turned her head to the side as if it would help her disappear. Mark's face fell, and he leaned closer.

"He was... looking for you," said Mark, trying to search her face. She turned her head further, and Mark swallowed. "Did you—see him? Did—did he find you?"

Konray struggled to swallow. Her jaw tightened, nostrils flared, throat bobbed up and down... and with a heaving breath, she let out a sob and bowed her head. She held a hand over the wound in her stomach, hiding her face in her other hand.

"I-I'm sorry—" she gasped out, voice hiccuping on sobs. Mark's eyes widened, and the dread came crashing down all around him, realization clicking into place. "M-ark, I'm s-so sorry—"

The air went heavy, and Mark's throat closed in, his chest going tight.

"No..."

"T-these guys t-they—" Konray gasped for breath. "They came up to me—and I-I—" She glanced up at Mark, and when she saw his horrified face, she looked away. "I took the pill, a-and it—my ability, I couldn't—couldn't control it—"

Mark stood there, numb.

"A-and then Ethan came—" She ran a hand over her mouth, tasting the salt of her tears. "I-I just touched him—I just t-touched him—and—"

Ether leaned over with a wince and gently pushed Konray back into the bed. Konray shook her head, tears rolling down her face.

"I-it was an accident—" she shuddered. "I-I swear, Mark, y-you have to believe me—" Her hands shook, and her chest heaved; Ether placed a hand over her to try and calm her. "H-He just—" Her lips quivered. "H-e just d-disappeared."

Mark shook his head, the breath leaving his lungs.

"I tried getting him back—" Konray breathed, voice shaking. "I tried, I tried—"

"You..." Mark took a step back, face blank. "...killed him?"

Konray's face blanched, and she shook her head. "I-I—I didn't mean—"

"You killed him," Mark breathed, locking eyes with her. Rage bubbled in his throat. "You—you killed him—"

Voxe rushed forward and grabbed Mark's shoulders, pulling him back. "Okay, that's enough—"

"You killed him!" Mark yelled, struggling in Voxe's grip. "You killed my friend!"

Ethan, who had first met him during one of his earlier kills.

Who had insisted on helping him hide the body, instead of calling the cops on him.

"How could you!" Mark screamed, pulling against Voxe's grip.

Ethan, who was always there for him, no matter the day, or the hour.

    Konray flinched, bowing her head in shame.

Ethan, who was like a brother to him.

Ether put an arm over Konray's body, shielding her. Voxe struggled to pull Mark back, teeth bared.

"Enough, Mark—" ze grit out. "ENOUGH!"

Mark sagged in Voxe's grip, and they stumbled forward, catching their footing. Voxe took the chance to wrap zir arms around him and pull him back, away from Konray. Mark let it happen.

For someone who loved to kill, death didn't feel real when it was someone he loved.

Mark heaved for breath, glancing up at Konray. She tore her eyes away, balling her fists up in the sheets, and then the fury bled out of him.

He couldn't be mad at her.

His knees buckled, and Voxe helped keep him stay upright, muscles straining.

He didn't have the energy to, anyway.

Voxe's earpiece fizzed, and ze pressed a finger to it, keeping an arm tight around Mark.

"Yes?" ze hissed.

Zir grip relaxed, and Mark glanced back, meeting Voxe's expression.

"He's waking up," Voxe said, meeting Mark's eyes. Ze grabbed Mark's collar and threw open the door. "Come on."

Mark sent an apologetic glance towards Konray—already regretting his outburst—but she was looking the other way. They raced down the hall without another word.

———

Voxe pushed Mark closer to Dark's bed and stood on the outskirts of the room beside Eyes.

    Mark stumbled forward, still stunned from Konray's confession. But then Equinox gently grabbed his shoulders, set him down in a chair next to the bed, and he met eyes with Dark's figure.

    The sheets rustled as he stirred. His brows twitched, then furrowed, and Mark's breath caught. He couldn't help but lean forward in his seat.

    He lost Ethan... but—

    Dark's lashes fluttered, and his lips twitched.

    At least he still had Dark...

    Dark's eyes carefully opened, and Mark swallowed.

    Right?

    Dark blinked, gazing up at the canopy. His eyes searched the ceiling, brows furrowing, confused.

    Everyone in the room went still. The air went tight.

    Dark carefully brought a hand up and smoothed it over his throat, feeling the thick scar there. His breath caught, and he turned his head, glancing around the room. His eyes flitted over Mark's face, then Equinox, Voxe, and Eyes... but no emotion crossed his face.

    He looked just like Eris said he would be.

    Different... empty...

    Dread coiled in Mark's stomach, and he swallowed. When Dark glanced back at him and met his eyes, his heart dropped.

    His eyes—once a bright, shocking blood red—were now dull. And his features... gaunt, hollow...

    Mark managed a smile, trying to keep himself together, desperate to hold onto his composure. Everything in him threatened to fall apart.

    What have I done? he thought.

    Dark cleared his throat, and he sat up, his limbs weak and sore. His head swam—vision went black for a moment—but he shoved it aside. Didn't even wince. The sheets rustled over him, soft, too soft.

    "The others..." Dark croaked out, his voice scratching painfully in his throat. He ran a hand over his scar. "Where are the others?"

    Mark went still as the others exchanged glances. Equinox took a deep breath behind Mark and sighed, stepping forward.

    "Ether is in another room. Recovering," she said softly. "As for Lux and Emery, though..."

    Dark stared at the end of the bed, letting Equinox's voice flood his head.

    "They're gone..."

    Dark took a deep breath through his nose and nodded, hand ghosting over the scar on his throat. Everything around him felt different. Less... stable. There was a faint ringing in the back of his head, annoying and high-pitched like a fly. No one else seemed to hear it.

    "And Xilef?" he breathed.

    Equinox bowed her gaze, jaw going hard. "We haven't found him," she said. "It's like he... disappeared."

    Dark's fingers dug into his throat, and he glared at his body under the sheets.

    "Haven't found him..." he breathed, the ringing in his head growing. He screwed his eyes shut and huffed, brows furrowing as he tried to will away the buzzing in his skull.

    He bared his teeth, and the others in the room stiffened, exchanging glances.

    Just how much did Revival change him?

    "All of you," Dark huffed. "Out."

    Their eyes widened, and Mark leaned back in his chair, swallowing hard.

    Oh God, he thought. What have I done?

    Dark's gaze snapped up, and he glared at the others, heaving.

    "I said out," he ordered.

    Voxe and Eyes gazed at each other—looked at Equinox for an answer—and she nodded, quickly ushering them towards the door. Mark bit his lip to keep it from quivering and stood up, going to follow.

    "Not you, Mark," breathed Dark. "I want you to stay."

    Mark swallowed, and he glanced back at the others, meeting their eyes. They only sent him glances, disappearing out the room and shutting the door with a click.

    Mark carefully sank back into his seat, wearily gazing at Dark.

    What have I done?

    Dark took a deep breath, and he ran a hand over his face, his neck, his chest, his legs—feeling himself, making sure he was whole, that he was really alive. Mark didn't say a word, too focused on trying to keep back the tears, too focused on watching Dark move so numbly.

    Dark pulled back the covers, and he swung his legs over the bed, feeling the carpet beneath his feet. His vision swam, and the ringing swelled in the head, but he ignored it.

    "Come on," he managed out.

    "What are—what are you doing?"

Dark stood up—vision cut out—and he stumbled. Mark shot out of his seat and caught him, holding him up.

    "You shouldn't be out of bed, yet," Mark cursed, leading him back. "You have to rest—"

    "I'm fine," said Dark, holding onto Mark. His vision swam and split, and he tried blinking it away. "Mark, I'm fine."

    "You're clearly not—"

    "Just get me out this godforsaken room!" he shouted.

    Mark flinched, and he stared at Dark, wide-eyed. Dark heaved for breath and bowed his head, hair falling before his eyes.

    "Please," he said, voice breaking. "This was my mother's room, I—" He shook his head. "Can't stand to look at it after what he—"

    "O-okay," Mark said, nodding. "Okay, okay. L-let's just focus on getting out of here."

    Dark huffed, and Mark led them towards the door, an arm draped over his shoulders to keep him up. He opened the door, and Equinox, Voxe, and Eyes gazed at them, brows shooting up. Mark sent them glances, and as much as they wanted to protest, they knew better than to say anything.

    "Where to?" Mark breathed.

    Dark glanced around him, taking in the emptiness of the halls.

    "The roof," he said quietly.

    "It's—nighttime, it's going to be cold—"

    "Mark." He just said his name, but it was warning enough.

    Mark swallowed, and he nodded, his head spinning with conflict.

    Was Dark mad at him? Was it just the effect of Revival?

    They struggled up a flight of stairs, and Mark pried open a metal door and swung it open. A cold rush of air blew over them, and the rooftop yawned before them, the night sky hanging over them.

Mark led them out onto the roof, and Dark pulled away from him, struggling to catch his footing. He eventually made his way towards the edge of the roof, where he stood, gazing at the City.

Mark wearily followed and stood beside Dark, eyeing him through the corner of his eye.

He looked handsome, no doubt, like he always did, Mark mused. The lights highlighted his face, and the breeze rustled his hair and his clothes.

Mark glanced out at the City, and his lips parted.

The City was in ruins, but the view was otherworldly. When they were up so high, they could see everything, glittering lights and all.

Mark managed a smile, and he turned his head towards Dark, searching his face. He kept staring out at the City, expressionless, his eyes dull. Dead.

Mark's smile fell.

What have I done...?

Dark took a deep breath, and he sighed, never once looking away from the City. A gust of wind blew over them, and Dark opened his mouth, pausing a moment before speaking.

"You know..." he muttered, his voice so soft Mark almost mistook it for the wind. "Ten years ago, I stood here. Looking out at the City."

Dark ran his eyes over the buildings slowly, almost sluggishly. "Xilef... stood next to me, where you are now, and... I asked him..."

The sight of Xilef struggling under Antinstine's sparks flashed in his head, and his jaw tightened. And then his words, loud and clear, echoed in his head.

"And you asked me..." came Xilef's voice, like it was happening again. "If I would die for you."

Dark fell quiet, and he bowed his head, brows furrowing. He looked down at his hands as if he couldn't believe he were real, then dropped them at his sides, letting them hang there. He swallowed, and he stared at the floor, eyes glossing over.

"Mark," he said softly, quieter than a whisper. "Why didn't you let me die?"

Mark's breath caught, and his eyes widened.

Did he hear that right?

Dread flooded his veins, and he glanced over at Dark, heart wrenching at the sight of him. Eris was right, when ze said people didn't come back the same, after they'd been revived.

Dark looked dejected, broken... hollow.

Just the shell of a man.

"I..." Mark swallowed, and he glanced away, shivering as a current blew up onto the roof. How was he supposed to respond to that? "I-I... I didn't want to lose you."

I did, though, thought Mark, breaths shallow. Didn't I?

Dark closed his eyes and breathed in deep, exhaling. It went silent, just the two of them, standing there, gazing out at the wreckage of the City.

Reviving him... if anything, made it... worse.

The air went heavy, Dark's question still lingering in the air.

And then Mark heard the shudder of a breath, shuffling clothes—and he glanced over, eyes going wide.

Dark racked in a breath, and he sank to his knees, bowing his head. He pulled something out of his pocket that clinked and rattled, and then pulled out a small, glass vial.

Mark's brows furrowed, and he tried to see what he was doing, confused.

Dark pressed the vial up to his cheek and let himself sob quietly, his tears sliding into the vial.

Mark's brows rose, and guilt rose in his throat.

He was crying.

The Tear Stealer, crying.

Dark fumbled with the vial with shaking hands and closed it. He grabbed something else that rattled, then tied the vial onto it.

"There," Dark breathed, holding up something. "For your collection." Mark's eyes widened when he saw it, and his heart tightened.

The necklace glinted under the city lights, gently waving under the weight of the glass vial.

It was the piece of jewelry that Mark had made. The necklace that held a piece of every single one of his kills. His trophy.

"It's finished," whispered Dark, sniffling. "That's what you wanted. Right?" He glanced over at Mark, meeting his shocked gaze. "A vial of my tears, for the final piece."

Mark carefully sank onto his knees beside Dark, and he carefully lifted it from his hands. "I... I completely forgot about this."

"A lot really does happen in two weeks," Dark said, and for the first time since he woke up, he cracked a smile. "Doesn't it?"

Mark coughed out a laugh, and he searched Dark's face, brows furrowed. There was a look in his eye—something deeper than the hollowness he'd grown into.

Mark's chest sank when he saw it.

"Dark, what... what are you trying to say?"

Dark swallowed, and he gazed out at the City, the lights glittering in his eyes. The scar over his throat looked more menacing in the half-light.

"You can go home now, Mark," breathed Dark, his expression broken. "You don't have to be trapped here, you don't—have to be trapped with me, anymore."

Mark searched Dark's face, and he shook his head, brows furrowed.

"I don't... I don't understand..."

"Don't you want your life back?" breathed Dark, turning his head, dead eyes searching. "I—took that away from you, and now that you have a chance—"

"I'm not going anywhere," Mark said firmly. He clutched the necklace in his fists tight. "After all that's happened, a-after all that we've done—hell, after killing Antinstine—" Mark shook his head. "Did you really think I'd leave you, after all this?"

Dark blinked, his lips parting. "But..."

"Dark." Mark stowed the necklace away and grabbed the other's hands, pulling them into his lap. "Before I came here, we both promised we'd change things." He leaned closer, eyes searching. "We promised to make things better for humans and Evolveds. To show that we can live together." He squeezed Dark's hands. "And look at us. Look at us, Dark."

Dark gazed down at their hands, his face blank.

"I'm not going anywhere," Mark said softly. "Because, Dark, I..."

He smiled, and he met Dark's eyes, tilting his head.

"I love you," he breathed. "And nothing can ever change that."

Dark swallowed, and his lips twitched into a small smile. His heart wanted to swell, stomach wanted to light up with butterflies, but—it was like everything was carved out of him, leaving him hollow, unfeeling.

"I..." Dark pressed his forehead against Mark's, pushing aside the feeling. "I love you, too, Mark."

Mark smiled and sighed, carefully holding Dark's face in his hands. He leaned forward, and Dark mirrored him, their breaths ghosting over one another's faces.

"It's going to be hard," said Mark against Dark's lips, "but then again... no one overturned a society in a day, have they?"

Dark smiled, and he rested his hands on Mark's thighs and closed the distance between them. Mark hummed softly and pulled Dark close, his heart swelling. Just being so close to Dark, being able to feel him after all this time—he didn't realize how much he'd missed him.

Dark carefully pulled away, and Mark's eyes fluttered open. As much as he wanted to stay here—wanted to keep this moment forever—he knew they had to go back down.

"Come on," Mark said softly, smiling. "Let's get you back down, where it's warm."

Dark nodded, and Mark helped him up, leading them back downstairs, where they left the rooftop, and the ruined city, and the quiet, night sky.