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The body may age, but the soul is eternal. Even while bedridden and sapped of the strength she's carried for so long, Dorothy is as beautiful as she was the year they met. That fact will never change.

But he knows the signs. They both do. Once it's time, he climbs into bed, gathers her in his arms, and brings her head to his chest. They lie together and reminisce about days past until her voice fades from a whisper to a hush. There's a beat, then two, before he hums the song that's surely playing yet trapped within her heart.

Stroking her soft silver hair, he hums to the song's end, even as he feels her final breath—a gentle, soundless sigh—toward the finish. Neither of them moves in the aftermath. The seconds tick by, and he continues to hold her soulless body close.

In the comfort of their home in the mortal realm, the train to the afterlife that she must be boarding now is beyond his reach. By the time he arrives at the Underworld, her soul will have undergone purification for her turn at reincarnation. This moment is all he has left.

"I wish you a prosperous new life . . . Daisy."

He'd known that this day would come since the beginning; however, he has never been adept at letting go. For the first time since his mother's passing, Rufus weeps in the deathly silence that follows.

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