Horribly, frighteningly, terribly true. The Heart of Darkness was broken. He could feel his own heart beating the wrong way, and for a minute he closed his eyes to listen, to feel. The beat was still there, but it was changing. Skipping every now and then. And slowing. No. That was wrong. It wasn’t slowing . . . it was emptying. It was then that he heard a familiar whisper in the very back of his mind. The whisper of an ancient woman who seemed to speak in a voice of dust. Milo Silk, whispered the Witch of the World, my heart is broken. The world is broken. “No,” breathed Milo aloud. “Hey,” said Shark, “I’m pretty sure that’s what she said.” Milo ignored him. He tried to search among the swirling shadows inside his head for the witch. “Where have you been?” he demanded, angry and desperate. “What—?” asked Shark, but Milo shushed him and stepped aside, touching his head with his fingertips. “You stopped talking for so long,” said Milo. “Why’d you leave me?
