Day 2 Part 5: End

The sandy shore was cool beneath Alan’s bare feet. Christian was smiling a little. The fog kept everything dim and soft, the clouds low enough that the world felt smaller, quieter. It was beautiful. It looked nothing like Roswell.

“I wonder where we are, physically,” Christian said. “There might be something esoteric going on, but there might not. If they found an isolated stretch of Scotland, we wouldn’t be able to tell.”

“You’re probably right.” Alan glanced at her. “How are you holding up, really? Ariadne was… more intense than before.”

Christian’s smile faded. “She’s been a hot mess ever since she grew legs. Terrible roommate. She sleeps at weird hours, smokes weird ****, and plays weird music.”

“Ah.” Alan frowned. “Do you think she’d mellow out if I turned her back into a snake?”

“I think she would—” Christian stopped and pointed ahead. On the beach, a tree stood alone. Its leaves formed alternating bands of green, red, and purple along each branch.

“That’s probably what we’re looking for,” Alan said.

Christian was already moving, her pace quickening until she left him behind.

Up close, the tree resolved into three trunks grown tightly together. Moss and vines softened the bark. Roots stretched into the sand and disappeared into the water. Beneath the trunks, sheltered in a hollow, sat three objects—deliberately placed.

“That was mine,” Christian said sharply. She crouched beside a telescope. “Dad used to take us stargazing with this. Chloe hated it, of course. I loved it. I kept going after she stopped.” She touched the metal gently. “We haven’t gone in years, but…”

“The guitar’s Nathan’s,” Alan said. He nodded toward the second object. “The flames, the black paint—it’s the same one he had in high school.”

“Oh.” Christian turned to the third item: a small, bright box edged in gold. “That should open for you, right?”

Alan picked it up and tried. Nothing happened. He frowned. “That’s strange. Usually it does.” He handed it to her.

Christian tugged. The box opened.

Inside, resting on yellow fabric, lay a band of dark metal set with a black stone.

“Cool,” she said quietly.

Alan flushed, suddenly aware of what it was. He hoped she wouldn’t realize she was holding an engagement ring.

“Cool,” Christian repeated. She slid it onto her left ring finger, then frowned. “Do you see a plaque anywhere?”

“Not yet.” Alan circled the trunks. Christian followed.

“Have you ever seen this tree before?” Her voice shook.

“No,” Alan said. “I’m sure I haven’t.”

“I have,” Christian said. “I just don’t know when.” She ran her fingers over the moss. “This is a holy place.”

“Holy to who?”

“It’s old,” she said distantly. “Older than Ariadne. Older than her parents. Can’t you tell?” She gestured at the trunks. “It’s like a natural maypole. The hollow goes deep into the earth—or it did, before they moved the bridge.”

“Bridge?” Alan turned toward her. “Is this… your transformation?”

“I haven’t had sex with anyone since I got here.” Christian shook her head. “Maybe I dreamed this place. I was in a cave, and I heard a call.” Her breathing quickened. “The call never stopped, did it?”

“Christian,” Alan said carefully. “Are you okay?”

“It starts with a name,” she said. “It always starts with a name. We don’t remember it—we’re babies—but that’s the first word. Our name. People use it to call us.” Her eyes were wide now. “It didn’t stop. Of course, it didn’t stop.”

She struck the trunk with her fist. The moss absorbed the blow.

“Why?”

Alan grabbed her arm and pulled her back. “Christian. This is a trap. Or a spell.”

“Of course it’s a spell!” she cried. “They’ve been rubbing my nose in it all day. They’ve been telling you what I did!”

“You’re not making sense,” Alan said, keeping his grip steady.

“It was supposed to stop.” Her voice collapsed. “Alan… is this hell?”

He hesitated, then shook his head. “No. We wouldn’t be in this together if it were.”

She let out a broken laugh and wiped her eyes.

Alan looked back at the hollow—the telescope, the guitar, the ring.

“Do you know why the guitar’s here?” he asked.

Christian looked up. “What?”

“Nathan tried to kill himself when he was seventeen,” Alan said. “He jumped off a bridge. He said someone saved him. Maybe it was someone like Ariadne. Maybe it wasn’t. A lot of my family's stories are like that now.”

Christian stared at the guitar.

“He told me because he wanted me to know,” Alan went on. “He said parents never guess. They don’t see it until it’s too late—or until they’re lucky. We don’t talk about suicide because we’re afraid talking about it will make it contagious.” He shook his head. “Everyone already knows. What we don’t know is how to catch people when something breaks.”

“I just wanted it to stop,” Christian whispered.

“Most attempts aren’t repeated,” Alan said gently. “They’ve studied it. We think it’s about control, but it isn’t. Something that holds us together fails. Someone was supposed to be there. They weren’t.”

Christian gestured weakly at the tree. “Maybe someone was.”

“What is ****, here?” Alan managed a thin smile. “Seems like it’s just a sick day for these people.”

Christian exhaled. “I don’t understand why she did this. The ring’s weird, too.”

Alan paused. “The hunt was supposed to be for a secret about her family, right?”

“That was a lie,” Christian said.

“A trick,” Alan corrected. He took her hand. “She thinks we’re all engaged.”

Christian laughed, breathless and disbelieving. “Oh my goddess. What the fuck?” She shook her head. “Okay. She got me.”

She glanced back at the trees. “Now if we can just find Excalibur, we’ll know she’s not _completely _full of shit.”

“Excalibur?” Alan smiled, the tension easing at last.

“It’s a long story,” Christian said. She squeezed his hand. “I think we have time for me to tell you everything.”