Secret Places and Hidden Things

Chapter Twenty-Five

Somewhere, in the most distant, forgotten place, William was wandering. The fox had left him, disappearing as suddenly out of his life as it had appeared, even after all their time together. The floating islands had settled back into place, drifting down from the clouds and piecing themselves together on the edge of the great void. His cabin had come down, too, with the twin mountain peaks settling onto the river they'd been torn away from. Soon, that was lost to him as well. He had tried to go home, turning back with intention like he always had before, but the cabin would not reappear.

At first, he was excited, wondering what new adventure might come, but it became apparent that, this time, things were going to be different. No people appeared. No animals appeared. Even the distant birdsong he'd become so used to was absent. The land became less and less changeable until all he saw was rocks and scrub grass blowing in a light wind. It was an endless flat plain stretching on to the horizon with dull gray clouds covering everything. The world was dim, and gray, and lifeless, and there he seemed to be stuck.

The days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to infinity. There was no time, no change, no emotions. He thought, more than once, that he ought to be sad, or at least bored, but he found his mind simply wandered from nowhere to nowhere, and he usually couldn't recall what he'd been thinking about only moments before. He was half asleep, but never tired.

His thoughts turned to Jack, often. He had mostly forgotten about Jack while he lived in the cabin with the fox. He had looked for him in the beginning, but realized that wasn't going to work. Ever since he'd left home, he'd never really known where he was or how anything worked. He had followed where Jack had led him, they had done what Jack had thought they were supposed to do, and when Jack had fallen asleep, William was left to figure it out for himself. He hadn't even been able to do that much.

In this lonely place, he wondered where Jack could be. Where had that train taken him? Had he ever woken up? He wondered about his own future as well. He wondered if this was the end of his story—if he was doomed to wander though an empty wasteland for the rest of his life. The thought was somehow appealing, even while he hoped it wasn't true.

In this way, over the course of time, his memories faded until all he knew, all he had ever known, was this gray world where nothing happened.

Then suddenly, things were different.

The sky before him had darkened. He noticed it, fading in as he walked, and as one day turned to another, it resolved into a mountain range, a wall at the end of the world. The closer he came, the larger it was, and soon the distant peaks dominated half the sky, looming over him like reaching giants. He stopped to take them in. They seemed completely impassable.

He turned south and began walking again, eventually coming to the edge of a wide river. The river came out of a gap between two peaks, winding its way through a steep valley full of waterfalls and out onto the plain. This was his way through. When he came to the edge of the range, following the banks of the whitewater, he took one last look north and south along the wall of peaks. His old life, whatever it had been, was fading to a completion, now. This was going to be something new.

He picked his way over the mass of bounders and bushes at the base of the valley, finding something like a path after a bit of struggle, and making his way up and around the river banks. After a time, he came to a bend and caught glimpse of a massive black castle nestled into the cliffs above a glacial lake. His breath caught in his throat. Jack would have loved this, he thought to himself.

And then...

"Jack?" he said. "Who's Jack?"

Slowly, carefully, he made his way up the valley and around the lake. The rocks and pebbles had been washed smooth over time, and this made the way treacherous. Halfway around the lake, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He tried to remember what he'd been thinking about.

"Jack?" he said again. He looked around him, his grasp on reality slipping away. Above him, he could see a castle, and with a pang, some distant memory tugged at him.

Eventually, he made it around the shore and moved under a canopy of pines. He could catch glimpses of the castle between the boughs, looming just as impressively as the mountains had. When he came out of the trees, he found a great arching doorway directly in front of him. It was open, and a crack of light was shining through. He pushed it the rest of the way, and found himself in a foyer with a wide staircase at the end. Off to his left, there was a room, and the source of the light—a fire crackling merrily in its grate.

He walked into the room and sat down on a large, over-stuffed chair, peering out the window at a dark line of mountains. He tried to remember what he'd been thinking about. It felt important, nibbling away at the back of his mind.

"Jack," he said. "My name is Jack."

And so he sat, alone with his thoughts.