In the end, with a bit of fresh air filling her lungs, it was not too hard to decide what to do. She could not get herself fully involved in the situation. She just couldn?t. She convinced herself that it would be foolhardy to go marching off into the woods after someone who, in her heart and mind, was dead and buried. On top of that, he might already be rescued. There were other factors to consider as well; personal problems that she kept shutting her eyes to, trying not to think about them if at all possible. They were there, though, demanding that she pay them heed and not run off on some heroic mini-adventure less she wanted things to become worse than they already are.

Honor demanded that she do something, though. Skyler had been her lover. More than that, he had been her companion, and she still felt the cause of his death was partly on her own shoulders. She could not, in good conscience, pretend that she never saw the letter and refuse to lend him any kind of aid. But what aid could she offer without going into the woods herself? The letter itself clearly told Jewell what kind of aid he required from her: ?Sometimes I feel an emptiness in my hand, as if something belongs in it. I am not certain, but I have a strong feeling that I have some skill with a sword.?

Skyler needed Wang back.

Everything that she and Skyler had ever given each other, and all the things she had stolen from Cosmo Beach, were safely treasured in a box, hidden in her closet. It had been a long time since Jewell had looked through its contents, but she did so now with a few painful twists to her heart. Dragging the box out into the middle of her room, she lifted the top off.

Cushioning everything was his black hoodie that she had taken to wearing every day after his death. Beneath that was his brown suede jacket, his favorite Rolex watch tucked inside one of the pockets. She set aside both hoodie and jacket, along with several other items of clothing, before digging through the remaining assortment of treasured objects: the plushie of herself that she had given him, a music player loaded with romantic songs, a napkin with a song written on it in red crayon, a vase that had once held red roses but was now filled with an assortment of little notes, and his ledger filled with both his and her own handwriting. She removed everything carefully, spreading it out around her on the floor until she reached the bottom of the box and the long box that lay there.

She removed this even more carefully than all else, knowing how precious it had been to its owner. Jewell lifted off the cover, once again admiring the samurai sword that lay sheathed inside. At the time that Jewell had taken the sword from Cosmo Beach, it had only been in its usual sheath. When she had finally decided it was time to pack Skyler?s items away, once she had found a measure of peace with his death, she had purchased a black-velvet lined box to store the sword in. She knew Skyler?s father had given it to him and that Sky would have wanted her to treat it with care.

Jewell kept the sword out as she placed everything else back in the box. Maybe there would come a time when she would return the other items to him as well. For now, there was just the one thing Skyler needed, and she needed to get it to him as quickly as she could.

Skyler awoke to the sound of rain. He squinted out the window of his room in the Great Hall and saw dawn breaking cold and gray.

Something had disturbed his sleep, and it wasn?t the rain. He usually slept well into the afternoon, but something plucked at him, gnawed at the back of his mind. Groggily he sat up, untangled his limbs from the bed?s fluffy white linens, and placed his bare feet on the floor.

Standing was difficult with his body still so malnourished. Stiff and sore he stumbled to the dresser and slapped his slender hands on the top to brace himself. Stooped over, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. Long shiny black hair in complete disarray framed a narrow, pale face with electric blue eyes. Who are you, Skyler? What are you doing here? Haven?t you figured it out yet?

He began to dress, pulling on a pair of black jeans and drawing the belt until it was taut. All the factory belt holes passed through before the leather tightened on his skinny hips; he had to hook the metal piece into a small hole he had made with a pocket knife several more inches down.

Next he put on a white button-down collared shirt. He only fastened half the buttons, leaving the top three undone and his smooth chest exposed. The long sleeves hung loose and far enough down to cover his hands. He looked like a kid wearing his big brother?s shirt, but it didn?t matter. He wasn?t trying to impress the fashion police today.

Without bothering to fix his wild hair, Skyler stepped into a pair of sandals and left the room. The Hall was empty, but there was an umbrella propped next to the door. He grabbed it, popped it open, and stepped out into the rainy morning.

Unsure of his destination, he simply moved along, as if following his nose to a kitchen where breakfast was cooking. But it wasn?t smell that led him. It was an odd sixth sense taking him toward a phantom blip on a radar.

The Red Dragon Inn loomed across the square. He felt drawn to it.

He went straight toward the building as if in a trance, not bothering with the cobbles. Instead he strode directly through the grass, his toes gliding through the cold wetness as raindrops pattered on the umbrella. His bodily aches faded with every step he took.

The closer he came to the Inn, the more he detached from himself. By the time he ascended the front steps, he felt as though he stood outside of his body, watching himself approach some picturesque hidden cottage in a fairytale dream. I am dreaming, he thought. It?s so vivid.

He pushed open the front door and entered, lowering the umbrella. The room was empty, but it wouldn?t have mattered if a thousand people had been dancing on the tables ? he wouldn?t have noticed. His eyes fixated on an object behind the bar ? a black box. With feather-soft footfalls he walked toward it, dropping the umbrella like an unwanted toy.

That?s for me! His pupils dilated and his mouth fell open as he gaped at the box. That is mine! He wasn?t sure how he knew, but he had never been more certain of anything. His feelings were confirmed when he spied the tag bearing his name. Skyler eased behind the bar and stretched out his arms, sliding back the too-long sleeves of his white shirt to reveal pale slender hands. In this moment, with his fingertips caressing the box and gliding over its surface in desperate investigation, he suddenly realized he stood in the folds of magic. His body began to feel like it was jacked into an electrical charge. Time lurched to a standstill; his awareness and eyesight exploded with virility and hummed like a finely tuned guitar striking a perfect chord. Everything around him became suspiciously thin, as if he abruptly discovered that reality itself was merely a glamour, and moments like this ? enclosed in a mystical embrace of real magic that made his mind shriek with elation and euphoria ? were the only things powerful enough to shine through and expose reality as the spiteful dreamscape it truly was. He could feel it probing him, the power, penetrating into his soul as if to verify his identity.

Inhaling sharply, he took hold of the navy blue ribbon and ripped it off. ?Miiiiiiiine!? he rasped. There was an odd swirling of air current, a tickle of movement and a wispy sound, as if he had just disarmed some ingenious booby trap.

He flipped the box?s lid and stared. His electric blue eyes fizzled as they gazed down the length of the fantastic work of art. ?This is mine,? he said. Instead of reaching inside to grasp the sword, he picked up the box and carried it outside. Such an amazing treasure had to be looted in the light of day. Cradling the open box in his arms like a babe in swaddling clothes, he stepped off the porch and into the grey dawn.

Raindrops fell upon Skyler?s puffy mess of long black hair. In a matter of moments it was plastered to his head and shoulders. The white shirt soaked through and stuck to his arms and chest, showing the boy?s leanness by accentuating his smooth curves and small hard muscles.

He was as oblivious to the rain as he was to the cold. Suddenly he seized the sword and tore off the sheath, letting both sheath and box fall to the grass. Harmony fell over him when his palm closed around the hilt, as if the sword was simply a missing appendage of his own body that had finally been reattached. Some deep part of his consciousness roared to life, awakened by the feel of the sword in his hand. And then he went dancing through the grass, his bare feet kicking up water droplets, the sword outstretched and flashing in artful patterns. His long black hair lashed around his neck like a thick rope as he spun about.

Suddenly he paused and lowered the sword to his side. He looked up into the clouds, chest heaving. The rain was abating, and there was a faint beam of dawn breaking through the canopy of clouds. Skyler howled in delight and broke into a full sprint toward the Marketplace.

He went to the fountain in the middle and leapt onto the edge. Had there been any onlookers, especially mothers, they might have found this sight appalling ? a young man running recklessly at full sprint with a sharp blade in his hand.

Skyler climbed to the top of the fountain and thrust the samurai sword into the sky. The blade shimmered as it caught the single shaft of light that broke through the clouds. For several moments he held that pose and gazed up at the beautiful weapon, his exposed skin glistening as sunlight reflected in the water dripping from him. ?This is mine!? he shouted.

Then he jumped from the fountain, his long black hair trailing behind him like a comet?s tail. He landed lithely on the ground and took off running, hacking and slashing the air as he went. Returning to the front lawn of the Inn, he bent down and retrieved his sheath and the black box. When he did so, he lifted the box to his face and drew a deep breath. An interesting scent rushed into his nostrils.

The scent of a woman.

Skyler narrowed his eyes and surveyed his surroundings. Dripping wet and freshly haunted, he returned to the Great Hall pondering this new mystery.