His brother was gone. Any trace of human skin had vanished, and he was nothing but breathing stone, his familiar body now cast in jade like a dead insect in amber. Goyl. Will didn't see Jacob or Clara as he rose from the sandstone bench on which he had lain. His eyes sought only one face — that of the Fairy. Jacob felt the pain tear through all those protective shells he had fastened around his heart for so many years. It was, once again, just as raw and defenseless as he had last felt as a child in his father's deserted study, and, as then, there was no comfort, just love. And pain. "Will?" Clara whispered her brother's name like that of a dead man. She took a step toward him, but the Fairy stepped into her path. "Let him go," she said. The guards opened the cell, and the Fairy led Will out. "Come with me," she said to him. "It's time to wake up. You've slept far too long." Clara looked after them until they disappeared down the dark corridor. Then she turned to Jacob. Blame, anguish, guilt turned her eyes as dark as the Fairy's. What have I done?
