It was a lovely day to wander and the leaves underfoot seemed to agree. They scampered and tumbled over the forest floor, painting the ground a shifting palette of muted reds and browns. They'd swirl around the base of a tree, ride the autumn breeze over fallen logs, and occasionally spin hypnotically in place, all the while rustling excitedly amongst themselves. Not to be outdone, the tall spruce trees swayed with the good-naturedness of old men preparing to rock out of their armchairs and join in the frolicking of children. Golden bars of sunlight streamed through the shifting canopy, adding splotches of light and dark to the painting of the leaves.

I couldn't help but smile as I picked my way through the familiar woods. It was hard to believe this was where I'd spent hours whimpering and sobbing in my youth, lost and afraid. Of course, back then the trees had seemed taller and more numerous. The sunlight dim, cold and unfriendly. The rustling of leaves the chittering of terrible and nightmarish creatures. Ah the naïve dramatism of youth, ever the -

I walked into a spiderweb.

"Agh!" I spat, jumping back and clawing at my face for the invisible threads I'd felt. I coughed and sputtered, bending to wipe my shirt vigorously over my face. I could feel the thin strands against my cheeks but why couldn't I grab them? Had the spider gotten on me? I brushed and wiped and I bemoaned my ill luck until I was confident I was safe from imminent arachnid danger. With a deep sigh, I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at the two trees I'd tried walking between. They leered at me, casting their canopies against the sunlight lest it gleam off of a stray spiderweb and betray the trap. I felt my neck prickle and glanced around, suddenly aware of just how many places spiders could be sitting, biding their time, waiting for my misstep into their webs.

"Not today, you bastards," I said, hefting a stick to probe at the space between the trees until I was convinced the way was clear. Then, thankful for the lack of bystanders, I made my way forward with as much dignity as I could muster. As I passed through the trees, I felt a soft humid breath of air run over me, and my entire body tingled. I shuddered and glanced around but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Weird. Perhaps I'd have to reconsider my perspective on this forest only being scary to children.

But a few more minutes of uneventful strolling through the the lush woods had brought back my pleasant mood. The deeper into the trees I went the more I began to recognize glimpses of scenery that was burned into my mind from my traumatic childhood experience. That tiny stream bubbling over the rocks was where I'd slipped and fell. Over there, there a giant fallen tree had watched over me while I'd crouched underneath, sobbing. Ah and that particularly thorny nest of brambles had scratched me up quite thoroughly as I'd bumped into them accidentally. Thorny bastard. I vaguely remembered a strip of my shirt being torn off by the bush. It'd been a good shirt too. A blue superman t-shirt I'd gotten after begging for so long. Those weren't the kind of gifts you'd forget.

I passed by the brambles and froze.

There was a strip of cloth snagged in the bush. A large strip of sky-blue cloth fluttering meekly in the intermittent breeze. I felt a vague sense of deja-vu. Surely this wasn't from my shirt all those years ago, was it? I shook my head. No, of course not. The color would have faded over the decades. Plus, I muddily recalled finding the missing scrap of cloth later. Perhaps this bush was simply nasty to all sorts of wanderers that bumped into it.

And yet I couldn't help but pocket the cloth. I continued forward, remembering that day. After bumping into the brambles I'd stumbled into a particularly wet and muddy patch of ground. I remembered how disgusting the mud had felt squelching through my bare feet. I shivered at the memory of it. I was glad to have my thick walking shoes on this time as I went to step over the same patch of mud…

Footprints. Those were footprints in the mud. Small, like that of a barefoot child. Curious, I bent down and poked a finger at it. These were fresh tracks. Someone had passed this way just a moment ago. I glanced back at the brambles, fingering the piece of cloth I'd stashed in my pocket, and a vague sense of unease began building in my stomach.

I moved forward, now running my eyes more carefully over the surroundings. Yes, I could see it now. There, by the stream that had doubled back on itself I saw another pair of footprints. I'd taken this same path when I was younger. There, by the large splintered tree, faint specks of blood dotted the bottom of its trunk. Like a small child had rested his scratched up back against it for a moment.

The back of my neck prickled again and I strode faster through the forest. This was silly. I'd come to visit this place to laugh at my younger self. Why was I getting so worked up?

Yet my breathing began to get heavier as I retraced the steps I'd taken all those years ago. In the distance I heard a branch snap as if someone had stepped on it, and I picked up my pace even more. I had to know what lay at the end. The stream doubled back yet again to my right, larger and louder in this part of the woods. I strained my ears and over the sound of the gurgling water, rustling leaves, and my heavy footsteps, and I made out the faint whimper of something pitiful. Something tiny. Something scared.

I all but ran the last few steps, whirling around a large stone outcropping that I knew all too well. At its base, huddled and softly crying, was me.

No, not me, per se. But, a young boy that looked just like I had all those years ago. Sitting in the same place that I'd been sitting, and looking just as frightened as I'd felt. He glanced up at my arrival, eyes wide with a mixture of terror and relief. He pushed himself back against the large stone, arms wrapped around himself tightly. Something about this entire situation felt...off. But I shoved those thoughts aside for the moment.

"Here now kid," I said, smiling, "It'll all be okay. Are you lost?"

The boy stared at me for a moment before nodding slightly. His grimy face was streaked with dried tears, and clumps of mud and leaves stuck to him all over his body. I could see scratches around his arms, and legs, and his feet were caked thickly with mud and twigs.

"Well, lucky for you," I said, squatting down, "I know the way out of here. Would you like to get back to your parents?"

The boy nodded, and the tension slowly faded from his body. "I was only playing around," he said in a voice as dry and thin as autumn leaves from all his crying. "I didn't mean to get lost!" He looked up mournfully at me, and I saw fresh tears begin to well up in his eyes. "I bet my parents are angry with me."

"No, no, not at all," I said hurriedly, "they'll be really happy to see you!" The boy didn't look convinced, and his arms moved as if to tighten once more against his body. Bollocks, I didn't know the first thing about handling children. I bet I wasn't this ungrateful when I'd been rescued all those years ago.

I was struck by an idea. I fished out the scrap of cloth I'd found in my pocket and held it towards the boy. "Here," I said brightly, "you lost this bit of your shirt didn't you? I picked it up for you!"

The boy's eyes lit up at its sight and he grabbed it eagerly. Twisting his shirt around he stuck it next to a hole in his t-shirt as if measuring the size. I grinned at his excitement as he tried to see if the patch could be sown back on. I knew what it was like to have a favorite shirt…

My thoughts trailed off as I noticed his shirt. It'd been muddied and stained but now that I looked closer it was unmistakable. That blue shirt. That logo.

"I think it can be fixed," the boy said happily. "Thank you..." He paused and looked at me, concerned. "Sir, are you okay?"

"What's your name?" I asked, my voice sounding hollow to my ears.

The boy hesitated at the tone of my voice. "Percy, sir. Percy Treyve."

I fell backwards, my butt hitting the ground with a thump.

“Sir..." he said uncertainly, "is something wrong? Can we go ho-"

"Your mother," I cut him off hoarsely, "what's your mother's name."

He looked at me strangely. "Maria...sir are you okay?"

I got to my knees, running one hand weakly through my hair. "The year," I said softly, "what year is it. Tell me, and I'll take you home."

"2001, sir."

The rest of the journey out of the woods was a numb one. The kid walked beside me, my hand in his, and he seemed content to chatter on now that it was clear he'd be out of the woods soon. But my head spun. 2001. Percy Treyve. This forest. Me.

Spiderwebs brushed against my face as we approached the outskirts of the forest but it didn't faze me this time. Was I dead? Had I time travelled? I had no idea.

Soon, we were out in the sunshine and I walked the boy over to a red car that I knew would be parked a street away. I waved to the tired looking woman I knew would be standing beside it, talking nervously to one of the neighbors. I watched as she gasped and ran to embrace the boy with tears running down her face. The boy looked equal parts happy and embarrassed from inside her hug, and I felt a smile tug at my lips despite the absurdity of the scenario. Mother had always been quite dramatic.

She finally looked up and smiled at me through her askew glasses, thickly muttering her thanks through her sobbing.

"Please," I found myself saying, "it was nothing. Your son was a brave boy. He practically saved himself."

"Absolutely not."

"Oh come on, Arthur," I said, holding a talon up to the door before he could slam it in my face again. "What's gotten into you? You used to trek halfway across the world to find me, and now that I'm at your door willingly, you turn me away like some unwanted peddler?"

The knight sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just...not in the mood for this right now," he said, not meeting my eyes.

"Mood?" I said incredulously, ruffling my great fiery wings, "How can you not be in the mood to vanquish a beast of destruction like myself! A beast of power, death, and tragedy! For thousands of years I have laid waste to -"

"Yeah I know, I know," he cut in, waving his hand in front of him. "Look, I'm just a bit busy at the moment, but maybe in a few months -"

"Busy?" I growled, stopping him short. He watched warily as I leaned back, towering over the small stone shack he'd made his home out in the hills. I bared my teeth, all two hundred of them gleaming like knives in the sunlight. I spread my wings, thrusting his hilltop into a deep molten glow as the sun meekly filtered through my stretched red skin. I grumbled low in my belly and a fiery heat poured through my veins. This mere man would turn me away like a common whore? I, who had been given a thousand and one names, each telling of a greater nightmare than the last? Perhaps he had forgotten who he was speaking to.

Well, I'd just have to remind him through flame, blood, and ash.

Arthur closed the door behind him and stepped out towards me. I smiled, further baring my hellish fangs. "Excellent," I roared, shaking the ground and causing birds to burst into flight for miles around. "So you have finally come to...what are you doing?"

The man had begun pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, occasionally shooting me glances filled with...guilt? Moreover, where was his sword of legend? Where was his shining armour of nobility that granted him the strength and wit of a hundred men? I ran my eyes over him and was suddenly struck by how old the man looked. His blond hair sagged over his face, he walked with his back hunched, and his normally piercing blue eyes had dark bags around them. As he paced, the occasional gust of wind tugged at his loose shirt, and I was shocked to see him look so...round?

I folded my wings and sank onto my haunches. "Arthur?" I asked, surprised by the concern in my voice, "is everything okay? You don't look like yourself."

The man stopped pacing and looked at me tiredly. Yes, now that I paid closer attention, he had definitely put on some weight. That proud sharp jaw of his was softened and rounded. I suddenly wanted to poke his cheeks.

"I've been meaning to tell you," the man said, a hint of guilt bleeding into his tone, "but things have just been so crazy...."

I tilted my head. "Tell me what?"

There was a pause. "Marci and I got married," he said, avoiding my gaze. "We had a child a few months ago."

The hilltop was silent for a moment, save for rustling of grass in the wind. "That's...I mean, congratulations," I stammered. This was hardly what I'd been expecting. "I knew you two would make...wait. Marci? Our Marci?"

"She's not yours," he said sharply, an old familiar glint of hardness entering his eyes. Then he looked away abashed. "But yes. Her."

I didn't know how to feel about this. "I thought," I said slowly, "after everything, I'd at least be invited to the wedding. You all but bragged about it to me when you came to rescue her!"

"Totally, totally," Arthur said hurriedly, holding his hands up in front of him. "But it was a tiny occasion. Just a handful of guests. We didn't want to really bother anyone. Really. And I meant to send you a scroll but I heard you were off ravaging Sardonia."

"Oh yeah," I chuckled. The sound came out like iron grating iron. Sardonia had been a far off kingdom but they'd been a good sport. "Well, nothing to do about that I suppose."

"Right," Arthur said, looking relieved. There was an awkward pause. "Would you like to see the baby?" he asked.

"Of course," I said brightly. "Bring that little hatchling out here!'

"Okay, but no flames or anything too scary okay?"

"Yes yes, I know" I said testily. I'd devoured thousands of children over the years. I knew their ins and outs better than anyone else.

Arthur made a gesture towards a window and I saw a figure flit away from it. A moment later, a woman walked out, golden hair whipping around her, proud faced and elegant, holding a tiny swathed babe in her arms.

"Ah Marci," I said fondly, "beautiful as ever!"

"Destroyer," she said cooly. "Try not to burn anything."

I held back a chuckle for the sake of the baby. "Oh, I've missed your flare," I said, smiling. "You know you're welcome back at my lair anytime right? It's a lot more spacious than this" - I waved a talon over the small stone building - "travesty Arthur has put you up in."

She snorted. "I'd rather die than go back there, you lizard." She looked angrily over at Arthur who wilted under her gaze. I shook my head to myself. Poor man. He could hold his ground against a dragon but even the best of men falter against a good woman.

"Let me see the babe," I said before the knight completely melted into a puddle under her wrath.

Grudgingly, Marci held up the baby for me to see and I couldn't help but coo over it. "It's adorable!" I said, feeling a thrumming within my heart. Ah, I'd forgotten the beauty of budding life. "You're going to grow into a big and strong warrior aren't you," I said. "Just like your father!"

The baby stared at my wide eyed, but to his merit didn't cry out. Arthur chuckled and walked over, taking the baby into his arms. "This is your uncle Argoth the Destroyer," he said lovingly to it. "One day you'll grow big and strong and beat him up just like Daddy did!"

I smiled, drawing closer. "Indeed, train him well, Arthur. I look forward to testing claw against steel with you, young one. We shall bond over blood!"

Marci made a disgusted noise as the two of us laughed and ribbed each other good-naturedly. She grabbed the babe, storming back into the house. We watched her leave, and then looked at each other, trying to hold back smiles.

"Women," Arthur said, finally, and I nodded in assent. Women, indeed.

"So, this is why you haven't out and about, then?" I asked, settling back and rustling my wings. The knight nodded.

"Understandable." I looked off wistfully into the distance. Seeing these two together made me itch for something...more meaningful myself.

Perhaps Arthur had sensed the same. "You know," he started, "I've heard rumours from the north. Rumours of another dragon spotted. Female." He said that last word carefully, and it hung between us for a moment.

"Really?" I said, trying not to sound too interested. "Near the Kholani range?"

He nodded. We sat in silence for a moment more before a voice from inside the house made Arthur turn. "I should head back," he said. Then, hesitant, he reached out a hand.

I smiled, holding out a blunt edge of my talon and bumping it. Then he left.

I stared out at nothing for a few minutes then gathered myself. I knew what I had to do. It was time for the Destroyer and Bringer of Woes to become a conquerer. A conquerer of the heart.

I leaped off the hilltop and angled my wings, soaring on the streams of the wind. Northward.

We look cute, don’t we?

I shut my eyes. I didn’t want to look. I didn’t want to be reminded.

Now, now, no need for that attitude.

As though the air itself had claws, I felt a soft breath rake over my eyelids, dragging them open.

Good. Now look.

Through two pinpricks that felt like an eternity away, I saw my reflection in a window. Looking back at me was a large pink cat head with oval eyes and folded back ears, atop a furry bodysuit. People swarmed past me, some of them calling out jovially, and the window glittered with the reflected lights of the carnival street behind me. The hum of the crowd and the bursts of shouts and laughter sounded muffled to me within the large costume. I let out a low moan.

What? You don’t think we look cute?

“Please,” I whispered, “please…why…I don’t know why…” I felt my mouth abruptly forced shut, and I rapidly blinked back the tears that had begun to form in the corners of my eyes; it didn’t like when I cried. I didn’t know how I knew that. I couldn’t remember why this was happening to me. It felt too real to be a dream.

There you go again, not answering my questions. To think that you were so talkative when we first met! All that kicking and screaming…oh well, I’m sure you’ll come around shortly.

The air inside the costume suddenly stilled and I grit my teeth, knowing what was coming. What felt like thousands of tiny sharp needles seemed to stab into my skin and my entire body went limp. I groaned through my shut mouth but I knew I couldn’t do anything; the suit had complete control. A puppet inside its puppet master. I felt the muscles in my thighs convulse as if something was prodding them, and my legs began to move. The suit turned down the street, joining the throng of people moving about the carnival. I watched numbly through the small eye-slits as people snapped pictures of me and parents pointed my costume out to their children. In response, I felt my arms pulled upwards into a friendly wave.

They really like me, don’t they? I’d forgotten how popular I was.

More waving. More photos. More walking. We turned onto a street lined with food stalls, and the scent of grease and popcorn wafted through the tiny slit near my nose. It mingled with the stale, rotten stench of the suit’s insides, but despite that my stomach grumbled loudly. When had I last eaten? It must have been hours ago when I was with… When I was with… who? Why couldn’t I remember?

Hungry, are we? I’m glad our interests finally align. I know just the spot for some grub!

I almost wanted to laugh; what kind of cuisine did possessed cat-costumes like? We’d moved past the street of food stalls, and turned into an empty alleyway tucked away between some low buildings that marked the end of the fair grounds. At the end of the alley, a slightly ajar door swayed slightly with the breeze. The suit came to an abrupt halt in front of it.

Remember this place? Where it all began? Oh my, I didn’t expect to feel so nostalgic.

The building seemed vaguely familiar. It felt evil. It felt wrong. The breeze died down and I caught the scent of something sickly sweet from beyond the door. There was something inside that I didn’t want to see.

“No,” I said hoarsely, “please, not in there. We can’t go in there.”

Don’t you worry, there’s nothing scary inside. I promise.

My arm jerked forward and pulled the door open. Weak rays from the setting sun filtered into the dark room, dimly outlining the stacks of boxes sitting haphazardly everywhere. The back corner of the room remained shrouded in darkness. The suit took a step into the room and the foul stench hit me in full force. I groaned in frustration, trying fruitlessly to move my body. I couldn’t be in here. Why? Why didn’t I want to be in here?

What are you so afraid of? We’re just dropping by to see an old friend of yours. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you!

The suit headed further into the room, slowly lumbering towards that dark corner. There was something there. Something I didn’t want to see. I shut my eyes, feeling hot tears run down my cheeks. Why was I crying? I wouldn’t look. I wouldn’t look. I wouldn’t look.

Look.

My eyelids were dragged open more forcefully than before. I felt those same sharp bristles of air pull at my eyeballs, forcing them to look downwards. Below me lay a humanoid figure. It wasn’t moving. I felt my stomach drop and let out a whimper, tears falling more freely now. Jes. Why wasn’t he moving?

I knew why. I’d known all along.

On second thought, he doesn’t look very excited to see you. That’s what I don’t like about dead people; you can never guess what they’re thinking.

“Why?” I asked, my voice breaking, “why did you…”

I didn’t do anything. You came to me.

No. Jes had found the suit. I didn’t do anything.

You wanted to wear me.

No. Jes had found the suit creepy. I’d just wanted to put it on to give him a scare.

You offered yourself to me.

No. I didn’t know. I didn’t know…

I just made a few suggestions…

No. The suit had taken over. I hadn’t been able to control my body.

Oh, how good it felt to finally be able to move again. To finally have hands again.

I’d tried to resist. I’d yelled at Jes to leave. Why didn’t he leave?

He made quite the racket, didn’t he?

Why didn’t he leave? I’d told him to run. I’d told him something was wrong.

So much noise. It was all so exciting. I’m glad you didn’t let him run. I was still getting used to your body. I’m not sure you could’ve caught him.

Why hadn’t he listened? This was all his fault. It was all his fault.

Well, all’s well that ends well. I told you I knew a good spot for some grub, right?

The sun’s final rays slipped out of the room, heading beneath the horizon and the suit dropped down to its knees. Some of my tears had found their way to the eye slits and I heard them plop to the ground below. At least a part of me had escaped.

How lovely, after all these years, to have a mouth again.

“First time on a plane?”

I blinked, tearing my eyes away from the window I didn’t recall staring out of. I turned towards the source of the question. Sitting across from me, his chin resting above his interlaced fingers, was unmistakably Jeffrey Epstein. His leathery face was split into a smile that didn’t quite reach his sunken eyes. “You sure seem out of it,” he chuckled sympathetically, “you feeling okay, son?”

I nodded instinctively. I was definitely not feeling okay. I had no recollection of the events leading up to this situation. Why was I sitting across from a man who was supposed to be dead? Was this a dream? But the faint smell of pressurized cabin air, the hum of the jet engines, and the vibrations of the plane that I could feel through my seat were far too realistic to be something I’d dreamt up.

“Well, that’s good,” he continued, glancing at my lap, “should we move on with the interview then?”

Interview? I followed his eyes and for the first time noticed the notepad and pen I was holding in my lap. There was something written on the notepad. I brought it closer to get a better look.

2019. His last flight. He must not know. Ask what you will.

I stared at the words, feeling more confused. Had I really been sent back in time just to ask this man a few questions? As disoriented as I felt, I couldn’t help but think what a waste of time travel that would be. What would I possibly want to ask the infamous Epstein?

“Well?” he prompted, a tinge of annoyance creeping into his voice.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry about that,” I said, trying to look apologetic, “it’s just my first time on such a luxurious plane. It probably cost you a fortune, didn’t it?” I paused, inwardly cringing at the question, but Epstein didn’t miss a beat.

“Oh, all of this is nice but it isn’t all that important,” he said, waving his hand dismissively and plastering a friendly smile on his face again. “What I believe is more important is the preservation and advancement of humanity’s achievements. You know, that’s why I’ve been such a thorough benefactor for…”

As I listened to him ramble on, I had to concede that he really knew how to sell himself. I could almost forget the man the future would come to know him to be. I suddenly felt a chill as the gravity of the situation sank in.

His last flight.

The man sitting across from me was confident and commanding. He’d sat in that same seat for years and years; a tyrant on his throne with this plane his empire. With each flight and each unpunished misdeed, he’d built up an unshakable faith in his own invincibility. A faith that now clashed with the inevitability of the future.

How many others had sat in my seat, helplessly waiting for the day the tyrant was toppled? Was their faith in a just universe strong enough to rival his faith in his immunity? After how many years did that flame of hope flicker and die out; starved for the oxygen that the bonfire of his belief devoured. Even the sturdiest of rocks crumble into sand at the hands unyielding waves. Was anyone else on this plane still thinking the unthinkable? That after all this time, everything would finally come crashing to an end?

Ask what you will.

What did I want to know? What could I ask a man who had forsaken his own humanity? It was disgusting how quickly the answer came to me. A single word to fulfill the gross curiosity humans have of those who have indulged in the forbidden.

“Why?”

Epstein paused mid-sentence at my interruption, a look of surprise on his face. “Pardon me?” he asked, his forehead creasing in a slight frown.

He must not know.

What did it matter if he knew? What did it matter if he found out that I knew? Faith can only help someone face the future. It cannot change it.

“Why did you do it?” I asked in a low voice, not bothering to filter out the disgust in my tone. I couldn’t tell if it was disgust at him, or if it was disgust at my own curiosity. I still didn’t know if any of this was real, and if it was, why I’d been sent back to question this man. But seeing him sitting back comfortably in his broad leather seat, surrounded by luxury, I had to know what was left for him to gain by sacrificing his morality and humanity.

There wasn’t any uncertainty in my question. We locked eyes for a moment before he sighed and turned his head towards the window to his right. There was a long pause before he turned back to look at me. His large affable smile was replaced by just a slight curl of his lips. It was the first smile that matched his eyes.

“Beauty is a fickle summit,” he said, in a tone of someone explaining something perfectly commonsensical to a child. “Perfection only serves to highlight the imperfect, rather than make up for it. A single crack running through an otherwise masterful sculpture pulls at our gaze, demanding our attention until it envelops us. The chip in the painting, the out-of-tune piano key, the single misstep of a performer…the flaws linger in our minds, overshadowing everything else, don’t they? It’s what we remember. We can’t help but be fascinated by the flawed.”

He paused, and I unconsciously flinched at the jab. So, he’d sensed the curiosity lurking under my disgusted tone after all. He smirked, leaning forward with his fingers once more interlaced below his chin. “Have you ever seen a fresh blanket of snow?” he continued. “How it conforms to the world that it lands on, taking on the shape of everything it covers in excruciating detail. It lies there in its unmarred beauty, as if pleading with us to allow it to stay that way. In that moment of vulnerability, what is it that most of us crave doing? We want to trample over it. We can’t resist leaving our footprints on the perfect. Now, the next eyes that fall upon the scene will not see the beauty of the snow. Their eyes will be drawn back to our mark, no matter how much they try and see past it. Leaving such a mark…it’s selfish thing. It really is. But it is the greatest luxury one can indulge in.”

He leaned back in his seat, his usual charismatic smile affixed to his face once more as a stewardess tapped on his shoulder and gestured towards a drink cart. He nodded and I watched as she began taking out a serving pitcher and a glass. It was all so methodical; so routine.

This was his desire? To revel in the euphoria of knowing that he had forever marked youthful beauty with a scar of his making?

How sickening.

What a mockery of morality it was that he could still smile with the same mouth that’d he shamelessly confessed with.

But our universe is not just. This plane lives in a world above silvery-white clouds. Here unadulterated, sterile sunshine floods the windows. Its purity is blinding. Maybe morals don’t exist here. The world below the clouds festers in trappings of vices and virtues, but high up away from humanity’s concrete jungles perhaps they have no place. Perhaps the sky truly is a safe haven from lady judgement. Is that why he looks so at peace, flying so high?

If that’s true, it is fitting then that this isn’t a place meant for humans to dwell. We are welcome to pretend like we belong here for a few hours, but we can never stay. For the ground below beckons. It is always there, awaiting our return. If the world above clouds is brilliant perfection, then the domain below is the flaw that we are pulled back to whether we want to or not. And within that flaw that we can never escape, lives humanity’s boldest defiance of the universe’s indifference. Law and justice; an imposition of order on chaos.

A soft bell chimed as the stewardess handed Epstein his drink, and the captain’s voice announced that the plane would soon begin its descent. I watched Epstein place the glass on the ledge beside him, his eyes glazing over as they passed by where I sat. I could tell that he could no longer see me. Whether this was a dream or not, it seemed that I had reached the end of my journey. And along with that, I’d reached a conclusion as well. I will never understand how the minds of people like him work and I regretted even trying to do so. It mattered not why he did what he did. All that mattered was the inevitable fall back to earth.

His last flight.

The plane dipped beneath the clouds. Here, the world isn’t as bright. It’s a little greyer. The sun that filters through isn’t as pure. It is a flawed world built by flawed people. But it’s our home. It’s the one place in this infinite universe where we can hear the clanging of lady judgement’s scales.

The plane around me began flickering and my vision began to darken. It was time for me to return to the world where the scales had been balanced. The last thing I saw was Epstein’s pensive face gazing out at the approaching ground below.

He must not know.

I smiled to myself. He would know soon enough.