– 4 –

I do know that somewhere under the world, if he hasn’t died yet, there’s a dwarf named Joffun and he’s holding a genuine miracle in his hand.

It’s a miracle of the old world, and not the new one, but maybe —

Maybe it’s still valid. Maybe it still matters.

Maybe it still counts.

If it does, then it’s all right, I guess. If it does, then I guess there’s still hope for us, under the surfaces of things; and maybe there’s even everything that ever was in that, in the palm of his hand, still in there — still contained there, like the jewel in a monster’s heart.

Joffun knew the end was coming, after all. He’d tried to stop it. He cut out the heart of a young boy named Edmund Gulley and he’d tried to use it to save people, but it didn’t, you see. It wasn’t the miracle that he wanted. At least, it sure wasn’t, back then.

He got arrested for assault and attempted murder, what with ripping a young boy’s heart out, instead.

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