He curls into Jesper, head against his shoulder, their hands clasped together between them. Burying his nose against Jesper's shirt collar, he breathes him in. Here, there are no shadows for monsters or mangled bodies to hide in. There is no prodding, pressing worry for what happens next. He tries to make himself believe, for a little while, that this quiet moment carved out of so much fear comprises all that has ever happened and ever will happen.

"I was scared too," he confesses. Squeezing Jesper's hand, he takes a breath and wades in. "I thought...I thought I was going to die down there. Then I thought all kinds of crazy stuff about, like, gods saving us. It was something the Acolytes did, I don't know. It fucked with our heads. But I was absolutely sure of it."

Because Erik had said so, and he could trust his brother. Now that he realizes it wasn't a ghost after all, but only a delusion sprouted from his addled mind, he's gutted by the loss all over again.

"It was better, in a way. I was totally insane, but I wasn't as scared anymore."