The Spire trembled. Shadows curled around Miles, the echoes of the past still whispering in his ears. He could feel the weight of the revelation pressing into his bones, the cold truth settling deep inside him. The Hatter had not been a savior.
He had been ruin, a force of destruction that did not know how to stop, even though, deep inside him, there was a slumbering part that wished for him to do so.
And now, he was stirring.
Alice raised a hand, her fingers dancing through the air like a conductor weaving an unseen melody. The space between them shimmered, and Miles felt his body twist, not in pain, but in a sensation far stranger. Something inside him was uncoiling, being drawn out, like a string pulled from a tangled web.
The shadows deepened around him, and a figure took shape from them.
