The soft echo of footsteps followed Elijah up the stairs as stifling heat threatened to suffocate him. The building had not been built with airflow in mind, and without active air conditioning, it would’ve been sweltering even before Honolulu had been set down in the center of a desert. Now? It was like an oven. Sweat poured down Elijah’s face, soaking his clothes beneath his armor.

Elijah paid it almost no attention, though. Instead, he was wholly focused on the emotions churning within his mind. The anxiety gripping his stomach. The fear threatening to overwhelm him.

He knew what he was going to find.

During his trek through the desert and in Honolulu itself, he’d seen far too many mummified corpses to expect a happy ending. And yet, that thread of hope persisted. He wanted to believe that Nina had escaped, that when he reached his destination, he’d find nothing but an empty apartment. Perhaps she’d gone in a different direction. Maybe she had even been in Rubibi and Elijah just hadn’t noticed. He certainly hadn’t seen the entire population, so it was possible.

But he knew it wasn’t likely.

If she’d escaped, Shane would have known, and he wouldn’t have kept that information to himself. Not after Elijah had given him enough money and opportunity to steer his life in an entirely different direction.

He was well aware of just how ridiculous it was to cling to that tiny sliver of hope. And yet, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to believe that something good could come of his trip down memory lane.

When he finally reached the third floor, he hesitated. The exit from the stairwell looked much like any other door he’d encountered. Just dust-covered steel. But it represented something else. Something terrifying.

Elijah reached out with a trembling hand and twisted the handle. It opened easily, though it did let out a screech at the movement. It echoed the terror in Elijah’s heart, though he didn’t hesitate to step into the hall.

The building wasn’t large, so there were only four units on each floor. Elijah’s former apartment was on the left at the end of the hall. He could remember following that path countless times. Nina had insisted he take the stairs instead of ride the elevator. One of those simple but effective health tips she loved to espouse. Often, they’d annoyed Elijah, though in retrospect, he missed her constant admonitions to eat better, exercise more, and live an overall healthier lifestyle.

Something had shattered the window at the end of the hall, so most of the corridor was covered in a few inches of coarse, white sand. Elijah stepped across it with caution. He knew just how many dangers it could conceal, and some of them were very adept at hiding their presence – even against Soul of the Wild.

As it turned out, there was nothing there, as he discovered shuffling through the hall.

The first two apartments – one on each side – had belonged to Mr. Kaimana and Miss Nakagawa, respectively. Though they were both elderly, they were a study in contrasts. Mr. Kaimana was welcoming, often inviting Elijah and Nina over for dinner and regaling them with tales of Hawaiian mythology. He was a long-retired professor on the subject, though he was still quite enthusiastic about sharing the legends of his people.

Unfortunately, Nina and Elijah rarely accepted his invitations, mostly because of their busy schedules. But when they had the time to take him up on the offer, they’d found his cooking to be incredible. Elijah was particularly fond of Kaimana’s version of chicken long rice, though Nina had preferred his Spam saimin. They both enjoyed his stories, though.

Miss Nakagawa was nice enough in her own way, though where Kaimana had been boisterous and pointedly welcoming, the diminutive Japanese woman had been more controlled in her demeanor. She got along great with Nina, but she’d always looked at Elijah with what he interpreted as disapproval.

When Elijah checked the two apartments, he found that they had died together in Kaimana’s apartment. Had they been closer than anyone suspected? Or had they simply banded together like so many others? Elijah had no idea, but he took some comfort in the fact that, in the end, neither had been alone.

No one wanted to die, but going out alone was somehow more terrifying than dying among friends or family.

Elijah did find a few dozen cans of Spam in Kaimana’s cabinet. He helped himself to the canned meat, as much out of nostalgia as for the food itself. Normally, it would only keep for a few years at most, but when he focused on it with Soul of the Wild, he found that it was still edible. No harmful bacteria had taken hold, and the fat hadn’t gone rancid.

And besides, he could protect himself against food poisoning. If his constitution wasn’t enough, then his healing spells would certainly take care of it.

That discovery afforded Elijah an excuse to delay the inevitable for a few extra minutes. But eventually, he found himself standing in front of his old apartment. The door was locked, but that was nothing to his strength. A simple twist, and the handle broke.

The door swung open slightly, but it stopped after only an inch.

Elijah pointedly ignored Soul of the Wild. He didn’t want to know what was in there. And he definitely didn’t want to feel it before he saw it with his own two eyes. He shoved against the door, though it resisted slightly. A cascade of sand revealed itself to be the stubborn impediment, but it was no real obstacle for someone like Elijah. He shoved the piled sand out of the way.

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And then, he saw his old apartment.

The familiarity hit him like a tidal wave. Nostalgia enveloped his mind, squeezing it in its grip and threatening to overwhelm his every thought. He stepped inside, and aside from the sand piled on the floor – from another broken window – nothing had really changed.

That same old couch stood in the center of the living room, its leather cracked and faded, but still as plump as ever. Elijah wanted to just plop down, kick his feet up, and watch television. Countless nights had been spent doing just that, with Nina curled up beside him as they watched some forgettable, paint-by-numbers movie on Netflix.

The film itself was never the point. Just the relaxation. The company. The shared experience. The way Nina felt in his arms. Comfortable, but somehow the opposite as well. Familiar, but demanding of his attention, and in the best way possible.

That was what Elijah remembered when he looked at that couch.

He shuffled forward, looking around the apartment. It looked almost identical to how he’d left it. When he’d broken things off with Nina, he’d decided to give the place to her. It was rent controlled, so she could afford it. But more than anything else, with his death looming over him, he knew he wouldn’t need it anymore.

She hadn’t changed anything in his absence, though.

He’d only been gone for a few weeks before the world had changed, but the same art decorated the walls. The same couch. The same metal basket – now with the desiccated remains of fruit – on the kitchen counter. Even his old panini maker, which Nina had always hated, sat next to the Keurig machine. Wave after wave of nostalgia slammed into him with every familiar detail.

But when he saw his dog’s bowls, one for water and the other for his food, Elijah could no longer keep his emotions at bay. He knelt next to those two bowls and read the name.

Fremont.

He still couldn’t remember how he’d come up with that name. Probably a lark. But that simple word had come to mean so much to him. Such a loving animal – practically a living plushie – who was as even tempered as any animal Elijah had ever seen.

He’d also attached himself to Nina in a way that sometimes elicited a little jealousy. It made sense. She was around a lot more than Elijah. But he knew that was just an excuse. The two had taken to one another from the very moment they’d met. It was one of the reasons Elijah had latched onto her as well. He could deal with a lot of things when it came to someone he’d chosen to date, but if his dog didn’t like her, he was no longer interested.

And Fremont had loved Nina.

Had Elijah?

Maybe. It was difficult to say for certain. In retrospect, it felt like it, but he’d been so terrified of attachment that he’d never said the words. Not out loud, but he’d even avoided the subject in his own mind. With the benefit of hindsight, he had to admit that, even if it wasn’t the sort of true love one might find in a fairy tale, he had loved her. In his own repressed way, at least.

Never was that clearer than when he stepped into the bedroom and saw what was left of Nina lying on the bed.

Her mummified corpse looked so peaceful. Elijah could still see hints of the woman she’d been. Like that old high school tee-shirt she loved so much. Or the way her black hair draped over her eyes.

Or the small dog curled up beside her.

Elijah couldn’t tell who’d died first. Probably Nina, but Fremont couldn’t have been far behind. And they had been together until the end.

Next to the bed, Elijah fell to his knees and stared. Since the world’s transformation, he’d seen a lot of death. He’d caused much of it, but he’d walked through multiple fallen cities as well. He had witnessed the final resting places of too many men, women, and children to count.

And yet, few hit him quite as hard as when he looked upon Nina’s and Fremont’s bodies.

The closest was when he’d visited Alyssa’s house.

Or more recently, when he thought of the vision of his sister he’d seen while advancing his mind cultivation. There were plenty of other moments when he’d been forced to confront death. Dat’s demise came to mind. The panther as well. And many others. Some, like Alyssa or Dat, were like sledgehammer blows of grief. But the others, like the death of the gnomish barbers or Zhang Yue, were more like chisels.

All left him affected.

But seeing Nina and Fremont?

That was like someone had taken an icepick to his heart.

Before Elijah even realized it, tears were falling down his face. He didn’t bawl – not like a grieving widow in a movie – and he didn’t spread his arms and scream at the sky. There were no melodramatic gestures. No real sounds at all.

Just tears.

Simple. Silent. Affecting. And full of grief for something he knew he could never change.

He had so many regrets, not least of which was how he’d handled the break-up. He still believed it was necessary. Nina didn’t deserve to see him waste away and die. But when she’d pointed out that she could make that decision for herself, he’d said a lot of things he didn’t mean, all in an effort to push her away.

It had worked.

Lines had been crossed.

And he regretted every word the second they’d left his mouth. Yet, he’d not been strong enough to say as much. Not aloud. Instead, he had sent her a letter, dropping it off as he went to the airport to take his ill-fated flight. There was no chance she’d ever even received it.

He rested his hand on her desiccated wrist. It felt like crumbly paper.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

Though that wasn’t entirely true. His words had been chosen carefully, and for maximum impact. He’d known they would sting. But he’d thought there would be time for her to see the truth. That his letter would make it all right. That she would have a chance to recover and move on.

But like so many others whose lives had been cut short by the World Tree’s touch, she never gotten that chance. And for the first time since Earth had changed, Elijah understood why so many referred to it as an apocalypse. He never had, and he never would. The World Tree was a beautiful and natural thing, and its touch, while transformative, was beyond value judgements like good, evil, or anything in between. It just was.

He understood why others didn’t see it that way, though.

As the grief and guilt threatened to overwhelm him, Elijah forced himself to focus on better times. On all the good memories they’d shared. Some were simple, like when they’d take Fremont to the beach, where he’d spend all of five minutes frolicking before he was spent. Elijah could practically see him flopping to the sand and looking at him like the mere act of remaining outdoors was torture.

Some were more complex, like the memories of his first few dates with Nina. He’d put so much effort into them back then. He knew precisely how lucky he was that she’d agreed to go out with him, and he’d been desperate not to blow it. Miraculously, he hadn’t.

Not until the very end.

And now, he would never have a chance to make things better. So, he wept. He processed as best he could. And he vowed not to make those same mistakes ever again.