The widow's walk was a testament to Jonas's poor construction skills and complete disregard for safety regulations.

  The platform jutted from the tower's highest point like an afterthought. Warped boards. Rusted nails. A railing that wobbled when touched. The whole structure groaned under Jake's weight, protesting the presence of even Jonas's lightweight frame.

  But the view was worth it.

  Jake stood there in the fading evening light, hands resting on the questionable railing, looking out over the swamp. Gray-green water stretching in all directions. Twisted trees rising from the murk. Mist beginning to gather as temperature dropped.

  And he was content.

  Actually, genuinely content. For the first time since Hope had cursed him.

  His belly was full. Both Jonas's stomach and his own true form. He'd finally figured it out three days ago. How to eat without being eaten. How to consume brain matter without it invading his consciousness.

  The technique was simple in concept, brutally difficult in execution. He used Life magic the same way he'd used it to modify the pig. But inverted. Instead of adding structures, he fortified his own. Built barriers around his core consciousness. Nothing got in. Nothing got out. A wall between his essential self and the consumed tissue.

  Then he could eat. Actually eat. Fill the gnawing hunger that had been his constant companion since the carnival.

  The cost though, because there is always a cost, was stagnation. He gained nothing from the consumption. No memories. No abilities. No knowledge. Just calories. Biological fuel to keep his parasitic form functioning.

  But after months of fighting his nature every second, even that felt like paradise.

  Jake extended his Life sense outward. A habit he'd developed over the past few days. Mapping the living world around him like sonar and infrared combined.

  There. In the corner of the widow's walk. A spider's nest. Eight legs. Two egg sacs. Busy spinning web between boards. Simple consciousness. Hunt. Eat. Reproduce. Nothing more.

  Below. A swamp rat scurrying along the tower's base. Searching for scraps. Quick heartbeat. Nervous system firing with prey-animal alertness. Thinking of food in every aspect. Living anyway.

  West. In the marsh maybe two hundred yards away. A nest of poisonous eels. Working very hard to make more poisonous eels. Their simple drive pulsing through the water. Survive. Multiply. Bite anything that threatens. Their venom sacs full and potent.

  Jake saw all the life. All the possibilities.

  What could he become? What could he create?

  This curse. This gift?

  No. He would never consider what Hope did as a gift. But he would turn it into an advantage. Because that's what Jake did. That's what he'd always done. Every disadvantage was an opening waiting to be seen. If it became something positive in his life it sure as fucking hell didn’t come from Her. It’s because Jake used every set back as an opportunity.

  Jake was growing into the creature he was made to be. No longer consumed by his own hunger, no longer plagued by the threat of becoming something else. Jake was free to find his own path in this new world.

  “And do I really want to make that path head straight into the most dangerous creatures that live in this world? All for a bunch of people that I hardly even know, much less actually care about?”

  Just kill them all! They are nothing to me. Slaves at best, obstacles more likely.

  “You do realize that I’m going to puree your guts right into oblivion as soon as this is over right? The only reason you’re still around, in the slight annoyance that you are, is because you might have more information when the Snake fuckers show up.”

  Jonas’s gut thoughts did not respond as usual. They weren’t actually thoughts, he had come to realize. More of instincts and deep rooted knowledge. It was becoming easier to ignore every day.

  Jake was thrown out of his reverie by unexpected movement down below.

  A human signature. Making its way through the small path that led to the tower. They were tired. Heart rate spiked. Even from this distance Jake could read the basic signs. Exhaustion. Determination. Desperation.

  But who was it?

  Wrong direction for the representative, and he seriously doubted they would be human regardless. And They would come from the interior. From the forbidden zone where humans died for trespassing. This signature came from the coast. From Hawth.

  Marcus? No. They described that guy as larger, this build was wrong for that. Lighter. Smaller.

  Jake watched the signature struggle closer. Whoever it was didn't know the proper places to rest. Didn't know the safe paths. Fighting through terrain they had no business navigating.

  But coming anyway.

  The signature resolved as it approached the tower. Not Marcus. Someone else Jake recognized from Forge's descriptions.

  Carrick.

  The man who always told Forge he looked like shit.

  “Yeah, I’ll probably like this guy.”

  Jake climbed down from the widow's walk carefully. The ladder was as questionable as everything else Jonas had built. Rusted rungs. Suspicious creaking.

  He reached the second floor as Carrick staggered into view at the tower's base.

  The man looked like he'd been fighting the swamp for every inch. Covered in mud. Clothes torn. Bleeding from a dozen scratches. Soaked through. Exhausted beyond measure. He made eye contact with Jake and paused. A look of filth and disgust rolled over his features.

  But still he moved forward.

  Forge was already at the door when Carrick arrived. He must have heard him approaching. He placed himself directly in between Jake and Carrick as if he wasn’t quite sure where this was going.

  Jake wasn’t sure if there was bad blood between Jonas and him, but he didn’t consume enough of those memories for details on any particular situation.

  "If you made your way through the swamp, something must have happened." Forge's voice was tense. He knew Carrick. Knew the man wouldn't make this journey unless it was desperate.

  "Fallen." Carrick was breathing hard. "He was moving supplies. For the evacuation boats."

  Jake felt something tighten in Jonas's chest. Already this sounded bad.

  "He dropped a barrel," Carrick continued. "Caught his foot under it. We heard the bones break from across the dock."

  "Crushed foot," Forge said. Assessing. " That sounds bad, but…"

  "No, there’s more. Evidently, he fell backward. Hit the support beam for the covered dock." Carrick's voice dropped. "The whole structure came down on him."

  The silence stretched. That wasn't just an injury. That was catastrophic. “My god’s that man could injure himself in a feather bed. How many bones did he break?”

  "No, no… there’s more. We heard it collapse. Found him buried under timber and canvas. Unconscious." Carrick was still out of breath from his obviously tedious journey through the swamp. He looked like he might be sick. "When we tried to pull the debris off him, The dock went down and him along with it."

  "How long was he under before someone got him out?" Forge's voice was careful. Controlled. But Jake could hear the fear underneath. “Is he dead? His mother is going to lose her mind if something happened to him.”

  "Yeah, that’s the last bit. He was under just long enough for the Black Jellies to find him. We got him out fast. As fast as we could, but he'd been stung. Multiple times."

  Forge's face went pale. Jake had heard about Black Jellies from their conversations over the past few days. Like actual jellyfish but with more intelligence. Aggressive. Venom that accumulated in the system. Not immediately lethal but painful. Dangerous in quantity. Each sting adding to the total load until the nervous system simply shut down.

  "We got him to his mother," Carrick said. "She tried the smelling salts."

  Forge's expression changed. Shifted from concern to something deeper. Worse.

  "And?" His voice was quiet.

  "Nothing. He won't wake up."

  Jake saw Forge process that. Saw the weight of it settle.

  "His mother's smelling salts," Forge said slowly. Like he was explaining to himself as much as to Jake. "Jonas used to buy them from her. Came into town specifically for them. Said they were strong enough to wake the dead. No one was sure what that meant exactly, but he paid in needed furs. So the town allowed it once a year.”

  Strong enough to wake the dead. But not strong enough to wake Fallen.

  "He's dying, Forge. Broken bones, crushed chest, poison in his blood, water in his lungs." Carrick looked at Jake. At Jonas's body with something else controlling it. "His mother sent me because maybe... maybe he can do what we can't."

  Carrick pointed towards ‘Jonas’. The weight of that settled over the yard. The desperate hope in asking a brain-eating parasite for help.

  "I can save him," Jake said.

  Both men looked at Jake.

  "I can take him as a host. I can fix the damage." The words came easily. The decision already made. "I can do this. I can actually SAVE someone for once."

  Kandis had appeared from inside. She'd heard enough. "The representative could arrive any day. If you're in Hawth when they come to the tower…"

  "Then Forge tells them Jonas is visiting the town. Inspecting the population." Jake looked at her. "It's a risk. But Fallen is dying right now. The representative is theoretical. And still not actually due for over a week."

  Carrick couldn't continue. Jake could see that clearly. The man was swaying on his feet. Exhausted beyond endurance. Running on pure determination.

  "I must look like Forge," Carrick muttered. Looking down at himself. Mud-covered. Soaked. Scratched and bleeding.

  "Yeah," Forge said. "You look like shit, Carrick."

  Despite everything, Carrick almost smiled. "Never thought I'd see the day."

  Kandis moved to help him inside. Practical. Taking charge. "Come on. You need food and rest. Kitchen. Now."

  She guided him away. Leaving Jake and Forge alone.

  Forge looked at Jake seriously. "Are you sure about this? Leaving Jonas's body here. On its own."

  "Without me constantly draining stamina from practicing magic, the body should last a couple weeks easily." Jake gestured at Jonas's form. "But it will suffer. The body will be severely weakened if we take that long. Muscle atrophy. Cellular degradation. All the things that happen when normal function isn't actively preventing decay."

  "We won't take that long." Forge's voice was firm. Determined. "We save Fallen and come straight back. Day and a half there if I push. However long you need to work. Day and a half back. Three, maybe four days total."

  "He might be the dumbest man I've ever met," Forge continued. His voice softer now. "But he's a loyal friend. Always has been. Never judged anyone. Never spoke ill of anyone. Just... existed with kindness. If you can save him, we have to try."

  "Agreed." Jake began preparing. Juicing up the Life magic in Jonas's body. Flooding the system with enough energy to maintain basic functions for days. "But I'm not being carried in a tobacco snuff tin this time."

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  "Fine, but I'm also not carrying you in my head if that's what you're thinking."

  "No." Jake allowed himself a small smile. Jonas's face making the expression look wrong. Unnatural. "A shoulder ride would be fine."

  They left within the hour.

  Jake exited Jonas's body in the laboratory. The familiar shift. Large to small. Leaving gut-Jonus behind was a bonus.

  Three centimeters of segmented horror on Jonas's shoulder.

  Forge extended his hand. Palm up. Offering.

  Jake crawled onto it. The sensation strange. Being held. Carried. Vulnerable in a way that went against every survival instinct.

  Forge lifted him carefully. Placed him on his shoulder. Between the neck and the leather strap of his pack.

  "Hold on," Forge said. "I'm not stopping for anything."

  Jake gripped with his webbing. Finding comfortable purchase in the fabric. Secure enough.

  Then they were moving.

  Forge knew the swamp. Knew every path. Every safe crossing. Every shortcut. He moved through terrain that would have killed most people with the confidence of someone who'd spent his entire life learning these marsh lands.

  Day faded to night. Forge kept moving. Sure-footed even in darkness. Reading the swamp by sound and smell and memory.

  Jake clung to his shoulder. Watching the world pass from his macroscopic perspective. Everything huge. Every sound amplified. The swamp alive with night creatures and hunting things and the constant rustle of life.

  They didn't talk. No point. Jake couldn't speak in this form and Forge was focused entirely on movement. On covering ground as fast as possible.

  The hours blended together. Night stretched. Then dawn began to break. Gray light filtering through mist.

  Still Forge moved. Pushing past exhaustion. Past the point where most people would have collapsed.

  The sun rose higher. Morning became afternoon.

  Finally, structures appeared through the trees. Buildings. Docks. The small settlement that was Hawth.

  Forge didn't slow. Moved directly toward the center of town. Toward a house Jake recognized from descriptions. Fallen's home.

  People saw them coming. Stepped aside. Watching Forge with concern and confusion. Why was he here? What was happening?

  Forge didn't explain. Just headed straight for the house.

  - - -

  The common room was crowded.

  Fallen lay on a table in the center. Not moving. Barely breathing. His chest rose and fell in shallow, irregular gasps. His skin had a gray pallor. The color of someone dying slowly.

  His family surrounded him. Friends. People Jake recognized from Forge's stories. Marcus was there. Gregor. Others whose names he didn't know.

  And Fallen's mother.

  A large woman sat beside her son. She was heavy-set and strong, the kind of person who commanded presence through sheer physical reality. She held his hand while her face was wet with tears, but her expression remained set and determined. She was refusing to give up even as hope faded.

  The room was packed with Fallen's family, friends, and neighbors. Marcus stood near the back while Gregor watched from the window. Others filled the space, people Jake didn't recognize from Forge's descriptions. All of them were watching, waiting, and grieving.

  Forge entered.

  The room turned to see him.

  Then they saw something else.

  There was something small on his shoulder.

  "What is that?" A woman near the door spoke first. Her voice was uncertain and afraid.

  People leaned in, trying to see. Their eyes struggled to focus on whatever was there.

  There was definitely something on Forge's shoulder, positioned between his neck and the leather strap of his pack. It was small and dark, moving slightly with his breathing.

  But looking at it directly made it shimmer and flicker. The edges refused to resolve, like trying to focus on heat waves rising from sun-baked stone.

  "Forge?" Marcus's voice was careful. "What did you bring?"

  "Hope," Forge said quietly. "Maybe."

  He reached up slowly, his hand moving toward his shoulder and toward the thing that eyes couldn't quite hold.

  The room held its breath.

  Forge's fingers closed around something and lifted it. He brought it away from his shoulder.

  That's when they saw it clearly.

  The creature was three centimeters long with a segmented body that caught the lamplight. Black scales were shot through with green and purple iridescence, and the colors shifted and moved with oil-slick wrongness that hurt to watch.

  The mucus was visible and thick and clear. It dripped from the creature's form in slow strands, landing on Forge's palm. The smell hit the room like a physical blow. It reeked of old blood and rot and something that shouldn't exist.

  Someone made a sound that wasn't words, just vocalization of pure horror.

  A man near the table stepped back and hit the wall. He couldn't take his eyes away from the thing. He knew what it was. They ALL knew what it was. They had not stopped talking about it for weeks, yet…

  "Gods," someone whispered. "What IS that?"

  The creature moved in Forge's hand. Its segments contracted and expanded with muscular, deliberate motion. The head turned to reveal a flat, triangular shape. Those heat-sensing pits along what passed for a jaw opened and closed, tasting the air and tasting the warmth of living bodies.

  A child started crying. His mother pulled him close and turned his face away.

  Forge brought the creature toward the table and toward Fallen.

  Fallen's mother stood up.

  The movement was instinctive and protective. This massive woman rose from her chair with surprising speed, positioning herself between her dying son and the thing in Forge's hand.

  "No." Her voice was strong despite the tears. "You're not bringing that NEAR him."

  "It can help," Forge said. He was calm and steady. "It can save him."

  "That?" She was staring at the creature with wide eyes, trying to look away and failing. "That's a demon. A monster. You want to put that in my son?"

  "It's not a demon." Forge took another step. "It's something else. Something that can heal."

  "Forge, what are you DOING?" Gregor moved forward with his hand on his knife. He wasn't drawing but he was ready. "What is that thing?"

  "His name is Jake," Forge said. The statement was simple and direct. "He's a parasite. But he can save Fallen. I've seen him heal injuries and fix damage. He saved the Glimmerglider from…"

  "A PARASITE?" Fallen's mother's voice went shrill. "You want to put a parasite in my son's HEAD?"

  "Yes." Forge met her eyes. "Because he's dying. And this is the only chance he has."

  The room erupted. People talked over each other and shouted. Some demanded that Forge leave while others asked questions. Fear and confusion and desperate hope all mixed together in the chaos.

  Fallen's mother was trembling as she stared at the creature in Forge's hand. She looked at the iridescent scales, the segmented body, and the wrongness that couldn't be denied.

  She looked at her son next, taking in his gray skin and his shallow breathing. She watched the color draining from him with every passing minute.

  Then she looked back at the creature.

  "Will he live?" Her voice broke. "If you... if it goes in him. Will my son live?"

  Forge looked her straight in the eyes, unwavering in his stance. "Yes."

  She looked at Fallen again. Her hand moved to touch his face, memorizing him just in case.

  Then she stepped aside.

  "Do it," she whispered. "Whatever it takes. Just save him."

  Forge moved to the table and extended his hand, bringing Jake close to Fallen's head.

  The room pressed in around them. Everyone was watching, unable to look away despite the horror and despite every instinct screaming to run.

  Forge placed Jake on Fallen's shoulder.

  The creature moved immediately. Those heat-sensing pits turned toward Fallen's ear as segments contracted in preparation.

  Then silk shot from its rear in a thin strand that glistened with mucus. It struck the side of Fallen's neck.

  The line contracted.

  The creature MOVED.

  It was too fast to see clearly, just a blur of iridescent black-green-purple colors. There was a flash, and then it was there at Fallen's ear, positioned and ready.

  Someone screamed. The sound was short and cut off.

  Fallen's mother made a sound that was deep and guttural as she watched this thing approach her son's head.

  The creature paused for just a heartbeat. Those sensory pits dilated as it tasted and assessed.

  Then it entered Fallen's ear.

  The movement was wrong and unnatural. The segments compressed as the creature slid into the opening, disappearing into flesh.

  The mucus trail remained behind, silvery and glistening as evidence of passage.

  Then it was gone.

  It was inside.

  Fallen's mother swayed with her hand reaching for the table. She missed, and her eyes rolled back.

  She fell.

  The CRASH was enormous. The floor shook as people scattered, trying to get out of the way of this collapsing woman.

  She hit hard and didn't move.

  Chaos erupted as people rushed to her, trying to wake her and calling her name.

  Others stayed focused on Fallen, on the silvery trail of mucus disappearing into his ear, and on the impossibility of what they'd just witnessed.

  "What have you done?" Someone grabbed Forge's arm. "What have you DONE?"

  "Given him a chance," Forge said quietly. "Now we wait."

  "Wait for what?" Marcus was there now at the table, looking at Fallen and at the ear where that thing had disappeared. "Wait for it to eat his brain?"

  "Wait for it to save his life."

  Someone was trying to wake Fallen's mother. They shook her shoulder and called to her, but she wasn't responding.

  "Get her smelling salts," someone suggested.

  "NO!" Three people shouted simultaneously. "Don't open those in here!"

  The room settled into tense waiting. People watched Fallen and watched for any sign or any change.

  He lay still and unmoving and unresponsive. There was just that shallow, labored breathing. And inside his head, something impossible was working.

  Forge stood by the table. He was calm and certain and trusting.

  The minutes stretched.

  - - -

  The damage was catastrophic.

  Shattered bones. Multiple fractures in both legs. Ribs broken. One puncturing the left lung. Internal bleeding in the abdomen. Organs bruised and torn. Water in the lungs mixing with blood.

  And the venom. Black Jelly toxin spreading through the nervous system like poison ink in water. Shutting down neural pathways. Blocking chemical signals. Slowly suffocating Fallen's brain of the electrical activity that meant life.

  Jake could see the only reason this man was alive. Fallen had a moderate amount of the affinity for Life. Absolutely no understanding of it whatsoever, but yet, it was actively keeping him alive. This was completely subconscious manipulation of an affinity. Amazing.

  Jake connected his own understanding and flooded Fallen's system. Pushing energy into dying cells. Forcing them to hold on. To function. To survive just a little longer.

  Then the bones. Jake couldn't set them properly. Didn't know how. But the troll regeneration did. The genetic memory embedded in his parasitic form knew how bones should fit. Should heal. Should knit back together.

  He guided it. Directed the regeneration. Watched as calcium deposits formed. As fractures began to close. As shattered fragments pulled back into alignment.

  One rib. Two. Three. The lung re-inflating as the puncture sealed. Air moving properly again.

  The organs next. Torn tissue regenerating. Bruised areas healing. Internal bleeding stopping as vessels sealed themselves.

  The water in the lungs. Jake pushed it out. Forcing it up through passages. Into the throat. Fallen's body coughed. Reflexive. Unconscious. Expelling fluid.

  Then the venom. This was harder. The toxin was complex. Designed by evolution to shut down nervous systems. To paralyze. To kill slowly.

  But Jake understood nervous systems. Understood how signals moved. How chemicals interacted. How to block and counter and neutralize.

  He worked methodically. Cell by cell. Breaking down the venom. Turning it inert. Clearing it from Fallen's blood. From his tissues. From the delicate neural pathways it had invaded.

  Time passed. Jake wasn't sure how long. An hour. Maybe more.

  He could hear voices outside. Muffled. Distant. Filtered through his connection to Fallen's ears.

  "It's working."

  "His breathing. It's steadying."

  "Look. Color's coming back."

  "We should wake his ma."

  A bone popped. Loud. Audible. Final piece clicking into place.

  More voices. Excited now. Hopeful.

  Jake kept working. The physical damage was handled. But there was more. Deeper.

  He was completely connected with Fallen now. Not just in his body. In his mind.

  Riding memories like they were his own but separate. Like a surfer feeling at one with the wave yet knowing they were not the wave. Jake entered a flow state. Moving through Fallen's consciousness with practiced ease.

  He could hear Fallen's thoughts.

  Not spoken thoughts. Not conscious deliberation. Something deeper. The mind behind the mind. The unconscious self that existed beneath awareness.

  And suddenly Jake realized he could send his own thoughts in as well. Could communicate. Not with Fallen's conscious self. That was still shut down. Poisoned. Recovering.

  But with the unconscious mind. The primal consciousness that never slept. That ran all the automatic processes. All the background operations.

  Hello?

  The response wasn't words. Wasn't language. Just... acknowledgment. Awareness. Something recognizing something else.

  You're dying. I'm fixing that.

  That’s nice of you. Thank you. Are you a god?

  Jake thought of Rikk in that instant. The problems that those kinds of belief systems and outright lies had caused. If he could have spoken with the gremlin like this, back then, could he have saved the creature from that fate? He would not doom Fallen to the same ignorance.

  No. I am just a friend. I am here to help you. Let me help you.

  No response. Or maybe the response was everything. Fallen’s mind opened up to Jake. Like giant doors swinging on hinges that only the owner could control. Jake walked in. The entire scattered, chaotic landscape of Fallen's unconscious mind reacting to Jake's presence.

  And it was chaos.

  Thoughts bouncing without structure. Connections forming and dissolving randomly. Neural pathways firing in patterns that made no sense. Information processing through routes that seemed designed for maximum inefficiency.

  Fallen's mind was a total mess.

  Jake had expected something simple. Animal-like. Basic drives and simple reactions. Like the pig's consciousness. Eat. Sleep. Reproduce. Nothing more.

  But this wasn't simple. This was complex. Sophisticated. Just... scattered. Unorganized. Like someone had taken a brilliant mind and shuffled all the pieces randomly.

  This is how you think?

  The unconscious mind didn’t answer. As if the question itself made no sense to it. But Jake felt the shape of it. The pattern. This wasn't damage. This wasn't injury. This was just how Fallen's mind worked. Had always worked. Would always work unless something changed it.

  And Jake could change it.

  The realization settled over him with cold clarity. He had the knowledge, the ability, and the access. He could reorganize this chaos and structure the scattered pathways. He could create efficiency where there was only noise.

  He could make Fallen better.

  Better than he was. Better than he'd ever been. Jake could give him cognitive abilities he'd never had and remove the limitations that made him "simple."

  Fallen would thank him for it. Obviously. Who wouldn't want to be smarter, more capable, and more functional?

  Jake began to work.

  He identified the cognitive pathways first, the ones responsible for reasoning, planning, and abstract thought. They existed and they functioned, but they were so inefficient. Signals took the long route while information got lost. Conclusions formed slowly or not at all.

  This was fixable. This was easy, actually.

  Jake strengthened the pathways and pruned inefficient connections. He built new pathways and created shortcuts. He optimized the whole system.

  Much better. Look at that. The signals were flowing properly now, taking the direct routes they should have been using all along.

  Then the spatial awareness centers. They were scattered and fragmented, but there was so much potential here. So much untapped capability. Jake connected them properly and let information flow the way it should, the way it would in a normal brain.

  Perfect. That was working beautifully.

  Pattern recognition next. Fallen had it because everyone had it, but his was buried and hidden under layers of neural noise. Jake cleaned it up, brought it forward, and made it accessible.

  There. Now Fallen would actually be able to use this ability instead of having it drowned out by all the chaos.

  Memory structures. Emotional regulation. Attention systems. Decision-making centers.

  All of them were scattered but functional, all of them chaotic but working. All of them were just waiting for someone with knowledge and ability and complete access to organize them properly.

  Jake worked with the precision of an engineer and the focus of a surgeon. This was fascinating work, watching the brain respond to his modifications. Seeing the pathways light up properly for the first time. Witnessing efficiency replace chaos.

  This was improvement. Pure, objective improvement. Making a brain work the way brains were supposed to work.

  Patient Zero.

  The first human he'd deliberately improved instead of destroyed. The first real test of what the Whisperer's Blessing could accomplish. The first proof that he could help people, make them better, give them capabilities they'd never had.

  Hours passed. Maybe. Time was strange inside a mind, stretched and compressed simultaneously.

  Jake worked methodically, thoroughly, and clinically.

  Creating a new Fallen. A better Fallen. A Fallen who would wake up actually able to think clearly, reason effectively, and function at full capacity instead of stumbling through life with a brain that couldn't organize its own thoughts.

  This was good work. Important work.

  Fallen was going to be so grateful.

  - - -

  End of Chapter 46