Into These Waters of My Soul

The day after the confession at the ruins, Ciel informed Sebastian that the latter would teach him to swim. The Phantomhive pair decided to take their time alone in the town, so the young and the melancholic author were entrusted to the care of Madam White. Her feet weren’t swollen anymore, and she couldn’t be happier. She was circling along the beach with her skirts lifted up to enjoy a foot massage — sand and water, how wonderful! “Back me up,” the boy said to the man. He made his way towards the sea, entering it with unusual confidence. What had gotten into him all of a sudden? And he did swim. After half an hour of training. Gabriel laughed mischievously. “Ciel, there are jellyfish there; they sting! And there are sharks, too!” “Why, do you think, I’m here for Mr. Phantomhive?” jested Sebastian. “I will distract the shark while he swims away.” The twin laughed, and so did Madam White. Lizzie didn’t like the jest. All those stories about sharks and local dangerous creatures frightened her. “It is not good to laugh about such things.” “Come on, Lizzie. Ciel is too skinny, and Mr. Michaelis is too old (you didn’t take offence, Mr. Michaelis, did you?). Sharks prefer tender meat. Like yours.” “Stop that, Gaby.” After lunch at the hotel, everyone went for a walk in the garden. Everyone, except for Sebastian, who chose to read in the library, the emptiest room in the place. As it happened, he wasn’t the only one who chose to go there. Gabriel came to join him. He sat down on the chair and said: “Arthur came to me the other day. He told me something that made me think and spend these days observing. Have my suspicions… been proved?” “What are talking about?” asked Sebastian. Even though he had already guessed the answer. Damn that lad with his moths in boots! He didn’t even say a word about what he’d done! “I’ll start from afar. Recently, my father gave me capital so I could learn to manage money wisely. As it happens, I no longer have this money. Or rather, I have no visible result. My father won’t like it, especially since I am to marry next year and become a family man. I need my father to trust me. That was the first part. Now the second part, closer to the point: you are a bad influence on my brother, according to Arthur. Even though he tried to obscure his message, only a fool wouldn’t get it. You are seducing my brother. You are corrupting him, like… the wrong bees do.” Gabriel smirked. “That’s what that eccentric called sodomy. The wrong bees… Mr. Michaelis, are you a wrong bee?” Gabriel crossed his legs. He rested his chin on his hand, his little finger touching the corner of his scheming mouth. “Bzzzzz,” the young man buzzed, never taking his eyes off the man. “I was married.” “It doesn’t mean anything.” “Nonsense! What are these two parts about?” “Put them together, and you’ll see…” “Are you trying to blackmail me? You are fit to be my son.” “And what does Ciel fit to be to you? My naïve little brother.” “This is the empty gossip of a storyteller with infantile thinking. He sees filth and injustice wherever he looks! Bloody Don Quixote.” “Your writing is proof enough.” “It’s gone, by the way. Arthur made sure of it, too.” “My word is enough. Who do you think my father will believe? Oh, he will make a scandal out of it, and it will be your end. Isn’t it an end, though, that men like you dream about?” The young man smirked. Boldly, self-confidently. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” “You are obsessed with my brother. Do you think I’m blind? I’m not as naïve as he is.” Sebastian headed for the exit — he wasn’t going to listen to that anymore. He grabbed the door handle when Gabriel called after him: “Think about it, let’s say, until noon on this Friday. We are leaving on Saturday. This way, I won’t spoil anyone’s holidays, and you… well, you won’t escape the island!” Sebastian slammed the door. He was bursting with anger. The counterpart whispered in his ear: What a bastard, huh? To think that you, a grown man, should dance to the tune of this nestling! If I go along with it once, it will go on forever, thought Sebastian, responding to the counterpart. But if Vincent knew, it would be over. Ciel would disappear from his life once and for all. What if we take him with us? What if we run away? It’s foolish. Impossible. I’ve ruined enough lives. I don’t want to ruin his. The counterpart laughed so loudly that a dull, throbbing pain squeezed his temples. Stop it, devil! Sebastian almost collided with Ciel, who was going down the corridor. “I was looking for you. Madam White said you were with Gabriel.” Of course, Sebastian wouldn’t tell him anything about his brother’s impudence. “At your service,” he said. “Come, I need to speak with you alone.” “Where?” “Same place.” “I don’t think it’s a good time…” Sebastian gave in. They came to the ruins again. The black goat was nowhere to be found. Storm clouds were gathering, and birds were flying low; the wind, hot as it was, was rising. Sebastian fancied that it was trying to smother him. Or was it that same bloody cross? Ciel was nervous. He licked his lips and bit them. He led the man to the centre of the ruins and looked around, as if making sure that they were alone. Then he began to babble in a commanding tone: “I think I learnt to understand you as much as I possibly could. It took me time, of course, and will take more time still. But… you gave me something too.” “What was it?” Ciel’s hand, barely kissed by the sun, touched his own. “Something that appears to be crucial to me. You gave me yourself… You are so brave. I admire you. You are going against the whole world.” “No, no, Ciel, I am not going anywhere. It is impossible to fight the world.” “Don’t argue with me. I can see it. And me… God, I was able to trust water! This dreadful emptiness that used to frighten me. It may seem like a small thing to you, but this water is not just water. It is my whole life. I have finally found someone who is just like me. Or rather, like an older me, the me who could do it.” Sebastian could hardly understand what Ciel was babbling about, but his excited face, his feverishly sparkling eyes — the eyes that were like stars! — brought out a smile and the deepest tenderness in him. “I also realised that, in fact, you hate innocence. That’s why… it may be the last time that you see the innocent beside you.” “What?..” Ciel gazed at Sebastian with a piercing look in his eyes. “Kiss me.” It sounded like an order of a steadfast tin soldier commanding to be placed, one-legged, against an upcoming tide. Sebastian would be that tide. He could not disobey. He leant down, covering the soft lips with his own. Ciel closed his eyes and became pliable. His mouth let the other’s tongue in, allowing it to explore the pearls of his teeth, his gums, and his own tense tongue, which, for the first time, was not a master of his mouth. Ciel smelled delicious; he was so fragile, like an elusive mirage. The man embraced him, wanting more. Ciel broke the kiss; the look he gave Sebastian was new, it was different. Perhaps his words that the old Ciel was no longer there were true. The Ciel in front of him looked different for Sebastian. The young man smiled mysteriously with his eyes and took a step back. “I know how you feel about me. But I need proof of your love.” Sebastian couldn’t believe his own ears. “So, it doesn’t bother you that we are both men?” Ciel shook his head and wrapped his hands around himself, as if defending himself or putting a barrier between them like he always did. “Surprised, aren’t you?” The boy looked up intently at the man. Under the pressure of his sincere, brave vulnerability, Sebastian took half a step back. “Don’t get me wrong… You have your own beliefs to follow strictly, and I have mine. One of them is about… You know, in fact, I don’t believe in love. You may say it’s a matter is age, that I’m just young, but there is love at any age, and I believe that it’s especially strong at mine. I always thought that I was incapable of it. Love is an impossible mystery that barely touches this world. That’s what I thought… until I met you. Don’t laugh at me.” “How can I laugh at you?” “But… the way I see it, love is exceptional; it only happens once. Do you understand? I’m very categorical at this. Love is what you can fight for, what you can kill for… For it’s the only rarity there is, don’t you think so?” “I know what you mean. But I don’t understand… is it really you speaking?” “And… I need… proof,” he continued, ignoring the question. “Proof that I am loved. Absolut proof. You think that life is meaningless and the world is a bloody performance. If this is so, love is the only thing that can be meaningful. It’s a worthwhile win, isn’t it? You will have a chance to prove that your words match your deeds.” “What do you want me to do? Do you want me to jump off a cliff? I will, but it will be too vulgar.” “No. I want you to kill… to kill someone I tell you.” It suddenly dawned on Sebastian that Ciel was not at all what he seemed. The counterpart laughed behind his back. It wasn’t a gradual transformation from angel to demon. It was a gradual and gentle way to prepare Sebastian for the truth. It was a cautious move of evil revealing itself to its… kin. Are you just like me? Yes. “Whom must I kill then?..” Ciel took a step closer to him and stood on his tiptoes. An unfamiliar, wet look froze in the depths of his eyes — it wasn’t a merciful angel, nor was it a kind man… It was the devil himself. The most beautiful trap in the world. His index and middle fingers ran along the man’s sharp chin and meekly brushed his thin lips. Ciel always thought that such lips befitted strong-willed people. “We will do everything right,” he whispered. “And if you do it, I promise to be yours forever. As much as possible.”

***

Arthur was in high spirits until the moment he saw Michaelis. The man was walking towards him, lost in thought. “They promised rain for today,” Sebastian noted. The author had taken his seat in the garden, his journals lying all around him. Some of them were full of butterflies in shoes and mosquitoes in suits. “I lost track of time.” “I see your inspiration won’t run out. And still, would you mind taking a walk with me? I’d like to talk with you about your story. I was thinking about your words that literature should carry a good message.” “My words?” Arthur and Ciel had one thing in common — they both were quick to blush. The storyteller’s ears, forehead, and cheeks turned red. Perhaps he remembered how, behind the backs of Ciel and Michaelis, he came to Gabriel — one more “protector.” He felt both flattered and guilty. Did he rush in his decision to run to the judge? Look at the sentenced — there he was, on the path of correction. Sebastian gave the man a friendly smile, tucking a black strand of hair behind his ear. “I think I’m ready to change my perspective on fairy tales. I may even work on one…” “It sounds interesting! Let’s go.” Enthusiastic, Arthur grabbed his journals and tucked them under a bush. They made their way down a winding path, past the white clay houses and to the sea, then further up into the forest. To the rocky cliff where Ciel was walking at that time. They say the weather favours not so much good or bad deeds, but those of them that evoke more emotions. The weather doesn’t need dissonance. It needs harmonious accompaniment. Black clouds from the north were still approaching, one of them resembling either the counterpart or Baphomet riding a tombstone. You see, that game with Ciel and the storyteller in the forest wasn’t in vain, the author smirked to himself. They were talking all the way, discussing fairy tales and Arthur’s ideas. “What do you want to write about?” Arthur finally asked him. “I can tell you right now: I believe that it’s never too late to mend your ways and find your path.” “I’m thinking of basing it on a fable about a boy who always pocks his nose into everything.” They were already climbing up the mountain, towards the cliff. “What will it be about?” Sebastian smiled, holding a blade of grass between his lips. “It will be a story about a page who dreams of becoming a knight, but he can’t because of his habit of poking his nose into everything. A nose as long as the mosquito’s from your illustrations.” Arthur laughed. “It is a good idea: to achieve your dream, you need to follow the rules of achieving it.” “You are reading my mind, sir Wordsmith.” Sebastian came to the edge. Arthur joined him. “This is breathtaking. Maybe that’s why I love to write about butterflies and birds? They can see such beauty. They can fly.” “Would you like to become Icarus?” jested Sebastian. He stepped a little back to pick up another blade of grass. Arthur turned his head at him, smiled, and looked down again. The sea began to rage. “Your games with Ciel in the forest taught me one thing, by the way. Can you see? Over there… there is a lump of seaweed in the foam, near a fang-shaped stone. It’s a mermaid.” Arthur squinted his eyes. “Indeed…” A game of imagination. The boy lifts the pillow above the slipping babe. He is not an arbiter of destinies. Not a personification of death. He doesn’t wonder what happens after his sister is gone. He never asked for this knowledge to come to him. But, like Ciel, he believes that deeds must match words. Proof. He needs proof. If life is a puppet play, if the secret of existence lies in the fact that everything around is only a film on a white canvas… If the plot has long been written and is spinning in a ready-made reel… Emilia means nothing. Only an empty element on an insignificant film. The films are too many. And so are the scripts. There is nothing after death. Life is death. It is strange how there is no death. There is nothing but a screen and a film. But what creates them? The same thing that creates the actors who believe that they are real and that the film is real life. Sebastian never chose this way. He only does what he has to. What he is meant to do according to the script. There is nobody inside Sebastian. No actor who believes that his playing is real and meaningful and that he will not disappear after the end of the act. The counterpart guffaws, resembling the goat from the ruined church — Satan and God in one being. Who is he?.. Who is he if there is nobody? The film is spinning… The boy lowers the pillow. The screams are muffled. They are barely heard. It doesn’t matter. Sooner or later, the film will end. It has long been full. Death watches it and draws a conclusion. One man pushes the other. Arthur falls not as one might imagine — with a touch of tragic beauty, like Icarus who forgot to put his wings on. The fall was both grotesque and awkward. Falling, the man hit a tiny rocky ledge where a dwarf tree grew, its insatiable roots sticking out in every direction. Sebastian heard the branches crack before the man fell headfirst onto the sharp rocks. Down in the foam mess, dark burgundy and red appeared against the wet dark rock and the turquoise water. The oncoming fierce waves battered the dead body. A mermaid, like Sebastian said. Several residents and tourists came running as they heard Ciel’s theatrical scream. Tourists oftentimes fell off steep cliffs, injuring themselves or dying. Or oftentimes drowned when they swam too far. Arthur did nothing that could get him killed. Except that he got on the wrong ship and met the wrong people. His film was cut. So would be Sebastian’s and Ciel’s, but maybe not today.

***

“I can’t believe it, poor boy!” Madam White was inconsolable. She was crying, just like Mrs. Phantomhive and Gabriel’s fiancée. The old woman’s eyes were the worst, all red and bulging, like those of her own Great Dane. “Such a lovely, kind man with such a wonderful imagination! What grief! When his aunt knows about it!.. Ah, someone has to write to her! Mr. Michaelis, you should be the one to do it; you are the only one among us who can choose the right words! Good Lord… my heart is aching.” “Drink some water.” Ciel gave her a glass. The madam stroked the young man’s head as she gulped down the water. Mr. Michaelis promised to write the letter right away. Vincent and he found the address when they visited the room of the deceased. The following evening, when the noise of the tragedy had died down a little, the man and the boy met at the ruins of the church. It wasn’t part of the plan; they knew that they could meet there to be alone. Ciel was sitting on a time-worn lectern. It was a miracle that he had climbed onto it, his legs dangling. He was wearing white-snow shorts and a loose shirt with a blue ribbon that ran along the edge of a round collar, giving him a pure, childish look. There was not a hint of remorse on young Phantomhive’s face; he looked no longer innocent but was still pure. Pure in his intentions. Death — not in the name of evil, but pure death, in pursuit of proof. Don’t animals kill one another for love during the rut or for survival? Are animals sinful? Aren’t knights created to be sacrificed? Oh, poor, poor Arthur… He found his own painted amphora, his Conidae Ciel, his own fate in the name of love. Sebastian felt an impossible awe of the creature sitting in the middle of the ruins, waiting for him with humbleness. Now he knew for certain that his whole life, written on a reel of film, was only meaningful for the sake of this moment. The starting point was here. Just like the life of Arthur the storyteller was meaningful for the sake of that moment on the cliff. His stories would be published posthumously… Ciel wanted to say something; instead, he only licked his lips and looked Sebastian in the eye. Looking into them was a creature still doubting that it had managed to tame another, more dangerous one. Ciel looked up at him, trustingly, proudly, condescendingly, and with a kind of frightful longing. First, Sebastian felt the other’s permission, and only after that — his own physical desire, the like of which he’d never felt before. Never before had he desired anyone so badly. He took Ciel in his arms. This time, their kiss was not so meek; Sebastian was greedy; he was taking what was his to take; he was taking it as a reward for all the time that he could only dream about it; and Ciel was giving it with wild, inept generosity. The man ran his hands along the elastic, thin thighs covered by the fabric of the shorts. He crawled his hand under the shirt to feel the pleasant, silky body. It trustingly clung to the man, inexperienced but willing to obey without question. As promised, Ciel gave Sebastian all of him. Awkwardly but greedily, he caressed the man, but even this inexperience excited him and drove him mad… Exhausted, Sebastian fell on his back. Up in the dark purple sky, constellations twinkled as they watched the lovers as coolly as it was possible in the molten summer sky. Sebastian felt someone’s breath just beside him, as if a draught from the underworld. He turned his head to meet the gaze of blazing crimson eyes. The counterpart bared his fangs in a silent half smile. Ciel turned his head, too, but in the other direction, towards the exit. Standing there was the black goat, his eyes sparkling in the dark. Rather blessing than condemning them, the goat looked at the humans and wandered away. Judging by the sound of his hooves, he made his way towards the cemetery. A local spirit. Ciel took the cross off Sebastian’s neck and threw in it the wake of the black animal. “We won’t need it anymore.” The boy lay down on the man’s chest. Their bodies, hot with love, were slowly cooling down. His pale finger gently ran along the chest, brushing a nipple, then it moved lower to the navel and lower still to the groin. “I find it fair, mister, that if we cheat on each other, each of us will have a right to kill the other.” Sebastian kissed Ciel’s damp, white forehead and straightened the strands of his fringe. He once mused about poisonous flowers and their beauty… Fortunately, he got the most dangerous one of them all. “You won’t need to kill me,” he promised. “Nor will it be the cause of my death.” The young man stroked his long face and blew on it lightly. “You are so hot, Mr. Michaelis. I almost got burnt.” The man spread the boy’s milky thighs. First, he stroked them respectfully, then wrapped his fingers around the member and took it in his mouth. Ciel threw his head back. Constellations used to twinkle for him as cooly and impassive as they did for Sebastian, and now they were gone all together. Instead, there were particles of sand and the remains of ancient shells, along with some phosphorescent traces of behemoth jellyfish. The tide was coming. The heart of the shimmering waters, their whirlpool, and their pleasureful stream — they all began with Sebastian’s wet mouth. They were water. An ocean. All the water in the world. When the water came and the waves washed over his head, Ciel could draw no more breath. He disappeared, dissolved in the sea foam, in the Milky Way… in the boundless waters.

***

Sebastian left his room early in the morning and made his way to the ruins, where only last night Ciel and he vowed to be faithful to each other. Youth will always need proof, with love, if not with death. Sebastian was only confident in his own strength when he was with Ciel. Other times, he felt his age. It wasn’t yet breakfast when a servant gave him a note. It was from Gabriel. I didn’t know you were so impulsive and vindictive. At first, I thought, if so! I shall double the price, but then I thought that you had quite amused me. Besides, I really have no proof! Ha-ha. What a foolish boy to brag about things like that! Sebastian crumpled up the piece of paper and threw it into a dustbin. The counterpart walked beside him all the way from the hotel to the ruins. Sebastian had a feeling that he could only put an end to him in the place that had become special because of Ciel. Because of his faith in him and because of his sacrifice. The long black robe was tattered here and there. The black horned skull now appeared and now dissolved in the elusive black energy. “Now I see what you are trying to achieve,” Sebastian said out load. “I admit it. I was offered a gift. I am a lucky chosen. I could have finished everything that day, but I fled from the truth. Instead of killing ‘myself’ once and for all, I killed Emilia and thus continued the meaningless plot. I was afraid. Afraid! I’m only asking you of one thing… Let me be with him until the end. Let me feel love.” “There is no love in this world, and you know that. Only He can give it to you.” “Whatever love it is, let it be Ciel’s. Let me love him however much he allows me. For Ciel is also His will. Isn’t it so?” The counterpart laughed. He was Satan amused by the tricks of a little human — a human who wanted to live, to keep on bearing his name, and to love another human. He wanted to remain an actor for the sake of another actor whom he had met on stage. “I will love him not as one loves a human, but stronger, much more.” Sebastian could feel that his mind was about to go dark; an impenetrable, endless veil of eternity would cover him, and he would disappear. But then… it moved away, and the world became clearer. The man saw a cross sparkling in the grass, the same one Ciel had thrown at the local animal. It was still wet from due. The counterpart was gone. Sebastian picked up the find and put it in the cup-shaped hand of an angel. It lacked an index finger, and its wings were broken off. The statue stood tilted to one side and looked away from the road, into the thicket of the forest.

***

The moment he opened the door to his room, the man knew that something was wrong. At first, he couldn’t see what exactly had changed, but then he noticed that something was missing. A chest of drawers where he put the jar with the poisonous cone — it was empty. He ran into Madam White in the corridor; she was breathing heavily, with her eyes bulging and her face all covered in red and white spots. She had rushed to find him without even thinking of sending the servants. Or perhaps the servants had been sent to call for her, and she was on her way when she met Mr. Michaelis. “Quickly! He’s in danger!” Everything within Sebastian sank. “Who?” he asked it in a voice that was not his. His heart, that once was made of stone, suddenly turned into an exposed, atremble nerve. “The Phantomhives’ son!.. They are in their room! There’s not time; it’s too bad.” They were already on the run as he learnt from the incoherent words coming out of the madam’s mouth: the boys were playing, the beach, a poisonous cone. Sebastian didn’t remember how he got there; he only remembered how he crossed the threshold. He remembered the ashen, flat, cardboard faces of Vincent and Rachel, and the sound of stifled crying. A boy lay with his eyes closed, on a made bed, in shorts and knee-high socks; only his torso was naked. Sitting by the bed was an old man, a doctor. He was listening to the heartbeat. The boy lying there had a completely colourless face, his head like a lump of clay with seaweed clinging to it. There was a scarlet cut on his right hand, blood dripping into a basin that someone had placed there. The doctor sighed and shook his head. It was too late. The poison had taken its toll. As soon as he rose to his feet, Rachel lost consciousness and fell to the floor. Vincent and Sebastian brought her to the next room, where the doctor gave her ammonia. When the woman recovered her senses, she remained sitting on the chair and staring blankly at the wall. It went on for several minutes, her mind returning to her bit by bit. Once it regained enough strength, the room was deafened by a heartbreaking moan, then came a scream and a cry — inconsolable, like the cry of any woman who had lost her child. Vincent looked really bad. Any longer, and he would follow his wife’s example, falling to the floor beside her feet. He was trying to keep himself together, but his limps were shaking, and so was his lower lip. He was saying something, but it was too quiet and incomprehensible — my son, my dear son, for what? The doctor said: “Such cases are rare, I admit. The thing is extremely poisonous; it was a matter of seconds. I am so sorry. I did all I could. I’ll give your wife some sleeping pills.” Vincent nodded like a Chinese bobblehead. Madam White couldn’t hold back her sobbing; she was sitting on her knees, on the floor next to Rachel and holding her hand. Elizabeth had gone to town to buy gifts for her friends. She didn’t know anything yet; everything happened in a matter of half an hour. Sebastian didn’t see the twin. He couldn’t ask Vincent to tell him the name. The corpse on the bed was undistinguishable — all Michaelis’ ability to tell the twins apart was gone without a trace. He ran to the room with the body. The corpse growing cold had such familiar features. You aren’t Ciel, are you? Please don’t be Ciel, I’m begging you! A young man entered the room. He wrapped his arms around himself, as if in defence, his eyes red and swollen from tears. Sebastian rushed to him and took his head in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Ciel?..” The young man nodded. The man could breathe again. He pressed his forehead against that of the other and took him in his arms.

***

It dawned on Sebastian: the seashell they found in their first days on the island — it was not a coincidence. Which meant… “You killed your brother.” “Sooner or later, everything will fall into place. You will see,” the boy whispered and stroked the man’s head. “But why kill him?” “I didn’t tell you. You wouldn’t believe it. Gabriel tried to eat me. When we were still in our mother’s womb. I’ve heard stories about how grown-up people remember what was happening to them when they were embryos in a womb. Do you know that one can even remember a father making love to a pregnant woman?” Sebastian shook his head. He didn’t see how it was connected to the murder. But then again, no one — not a single person in the world — would understand his own reason for the kill. Except for Ciel, perhaps, who could try to understand him. “What makes you sure that you remember it?” “I remembered it last night when you and I… when we were together,” the young man answered. “The dark, dark waters… They caressed me, dissolved me in themselves, and tried to tear me to pieces. And yet, they pushed me out in the end. It is natural to struggle for survival. But I was doing it my whole life and would continue further. First, my brother tried to kill me before I was born, and then he consumed my own being. To survive, I had to pretend to be something I was not. His cruelty towards me was driven by the rights of the elder. But sooner or later, those games could have ended up badly, don’t you think? When I met you, I realised that it couldn’t continue like that anymore. But I gave him a chance, Sebastian, I did! Do you remember those times you took death in your hands when I asked you, and yet you stayed alive? And he couldn’t. I think that it was meant to be this way, now I am sure about it. It was a matter of chance that he didn’t devour me in the womb, and it was a matter of chance that death bit him. That’s it. You taught me to understand the real me… It took me time to see what you are. That you are like me, and that I can trust you.” “Like you?..” Ciel took Sebastian by the hand and brought it to his face to rub his cheek against it tenderly. “You haven’t fallen in love with me because I’m an angel, Sebastian,” he smiled softly and yet somehow ominously, “but because I’m a demon. You are a demon, too, Sebastian. Only more experienced and stronger. Right?

***

The liner is cutting through the ocean waters. It is sailing back home, back to England. There are three hundred and four passengers on board, including the crew, two dead bodies, and two demons. Sebastian and Ciel look at the receding land. The boy touches the man’s hand sometimes and holds it tight. Even if Vincent or Rachel took notice of it, broken by grief as they are, they wouldn’t think much of it. The sloping peaks of cypress trees are looming in the distance. The same ones from the Isle of the Dead. They say a cypress tree is a symbol of death. …I plunge into these waters of my soul never to return. Merging together, two rivers take the dead to their flow. The end is one — we all shall die, but there is a key to immortality… Your undying… Pure… Love. Sebastian feels like he’s been dead for years, and only here he’s been resurrected. By writing his honest and farewell novel.