Ryan drew on every reserve of strength he possessed, and focused to hold his flesh together.

And he heard the sound of something heavy, something metal, hit the floor just beside him, and he knew it was Burnout.

Something pushed Ryan violently across the room and into the soothing cool of the sprinklers. Jets of cold water, which at first simply turned to steam, finally fought their way through the fire on Ryan's skin to gently caress his wounds and soothe them.

Then it was all over.

Ryan opened his eyes, which were covered with a film of red, making the purgatory scene in front of him even more lurid. Am I still alive?

The small pockets of flame that still remained were hissing and smoking under the constant spray of water.

As Ryan rolled slowly, trying to get to his feet, he could feel the huge blisters on his cheeks break open on the blackened marble floor.

Across the room lay the motionless, charred body of Burnout like some child's fallen nightmare, a huge hole in his chest from the sniper round.

"You have won, Ryan Mercury." Lethe's voice was weak, distant.

You saved me? That push into the water spray was you?

"I saw your willingness to sacrifice yourself. I see the truth that you have changed."

Thank you, Lethe.

"Just fulfill your promise. Take the Dragon Heart to Thayla."

I will. But I could use your help.

"I have used up the last of my strength."

What do you mean?

"Ryan Mercury, we all make mistakes, and we all pay for them. When this fragile mortal coil dies, I will die with it."

Don't die, Lethe. You have to help me take the Dragon Heart to Thayla.

No response.

Lethe?

There was a crash behind Ryan, and Secret Service agents stormed into the room, weapons ready. Grind followed a minute later and rushed up to Ryan's side. The dwarf took one look at Ryan and spoke into the air. "Jane, get that Doc Wagon crew in here pronto. Quicksilver's so fragged up I'm not sure why he's still alive."

The only answer Ryan could hear on his melted earphones was distant static.

"Ryan?" The voice came from behind him.

Floating into his vision came Nadja. She was sopping wet, her ruined gown clinging to her. Her black hair was plastered to her soot-smudged face. Standing there, like some war zone survivor, Ryan thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

In the swirling darkness of the interface between Burnout's meat body and his cyber, Lethe found the silver cord-the trail Burnout's soul left as it struggled to find an exit from the magic that held it trapped. The cord draped downward into Burnout's inner darkness.

Without hesitating, Lethe plunged into the blackness, following the cord as fast as he could.

It didn't take him long to find Burnout's essence.

To Lethe, it looked like a small human boy, with skin of liquid silver that shimmered as the boy trudged slowly downward.

"Burnout?"

The boy did not run, did not slow his descent.

"Burnout?" Lethe said, again.

The boy turned slowly and looked at Lethe with dull, tired eyes. Eyes that spoke of a weariness no child should have to suffer. "There is no Burnout here. He is dead. I am all that is left. Now leave me alone."

Lethe moved closer. "If you are not Burnout, then who are you?"

The boy turned away, but called over his shoulder, "My friends call me Billy. Billy Madson."

Lethe continued to follow him. "Where are you going, Billy?"

"Go away. I'm going to rest. I'm so tired."

Lethe thought about it for a moment. There had to be something that would draw Burnout's soul back to his metal body, something this young boy would find enticing.

Then it came to him.

"Billy, you want to see a magic place?"

The small figure stopped. Turned. For a moment, Lethe could see the excitement behind the exhaustion in the boy's eyes. Then a look of suspicion crossed the young face. "What magic place?"

Lethe came up close. "There is a place in the meta-planes, a spike of mana. There's so much magic there that it fills your whole spirit."

Billy's eyes narrowed. "I've heard of that place. A lot of people died there. What's the magic in dying? I mean, if you're dead, how're you going to enjoy it?"

Lethe laughed. "Billy, I can show you a side to that place that very few people ever get to see."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Look." Lethe formed an image of Thayla in his mind. He drew from his memory of her song, of the sheer perfection of her beautiful magic. He showed Billy the power of the white light that radiated from her.

The small boy drew breath as the vision took him.

After a minute, the vision faded.

The boy looked up at Lethe. "You've been to this place?"

Lethe nodded.

"And this is a real place, not just something you made up?"

Again, Lethe nodded.

"It's wonderful."

Lethe laughed. "Yes, it is. Would you like to see it?"

A small fire seemed to light behind the weary eyes. "You could take me there?"

"We can only go together. You have to come back with me, back the way you came."

The small boy looked upward, his eyes trailing the silver cord that stretched out of sight into the darkness overhead. Then he looked downward, in the direction he'd been heading, and such longing filled the boy's eyes that it made Lethe's heart hurt.

"But I'm so tired," said Billy, in a tiny, child's whisper.

"I know you are, Billy. But this place is worth it. I promise."

They stood there like that for a moment, then Billy looked up and faced Lethe. "All right, if you promise." Together they struggled back up along the silver strand.

Ryan woke to the sound of crickets.

For a long moment, he didn't open his eyes, he simply savored the feeling of clean sheets beneath him and the smell of fresh air.

Even the dull pain in his chest and on his hands and face was welcome.

I'm alive.

He opened his eyes to silvery moonlight peeking through the miniblinds. The window was open, and the blinds rocked gently in the soft breeze blowing into the room.

Ryan felt good. Sore, tired, spent, but good nonetheless.

He was in one of the small guest rooms in the mansion's west wing, the walls were a soft magenta with oak wainscoting stretching up from the floor for about a meter.

A nice, simple room, compared to the luxury of the rest of the place. It suited Ryan just fine.

Ryan turned to the oak night stand next to the bed, and there, lying on a cushioned bed of real velvet, was the Dragon Heart. Ryan could feel its power, feel the pulse that drew him to it like the proverbial moth to the all-consuming flame.

Ryan stretched out a bandaged hand and clumsily grasped the Heart. He pulled it to his chest.

With a thought, he tapped into its power. Instantly, he felt the healing of his body accelerate at such a rapid rate that he found himself sitting upright without any complaint from his chest.

Ryan looked down and saw a piece of elegant stationery resting next to the velvet.

With care, Ryan peeled the bandages off his left hand. Even though the skin of his hand was fully healed, small, circular scars remained. He felt his face. It was covered in bandages as well.

He picked up the paper. There was a note inside, and he recognized the handwriting immediately. He leaned back against the pillows and read the flowing script.

My sweet Ryan,

I hope I am able to be there when you wake, but if not, I wanted you to know how much I love you, Ryan Mercury. I love you more than I can say, more than I will ever be able to express. v There are still dark days ahead, for both of us, but I know we will succeed. You have a mission that you must finish, I understand that, but even when the path seems dark, know this: there is one who loves you more than life itself.