thereâs plenty more to unpack than what comes second to last, but thatâs where he lands; canât find traction beyond it or mask the flicker of confusion that takes shape in the sudden crease between his brows. theyâre out here to find a cure. to chase a clue brought to them by the delirious ramblings of a one - eyed dying man in possession of a map out of harran, ramblings about a place where people who were bitten never turned. theyâre here because in another couple of weeks, the towerâs antizin cache will have run dry. because lena was right when sheâd told him that they couldnât afford to leave any stone unturned.Â
   and, for some reason, deanna has the feeling that he wonât be coming back with the others when itâs time.Â
   âhold on ⌠what?âÂ
   across the yard, bilal returns with a toolbox and thwarts any of the boysâ further attempts at playful sabotage. all of that fades to background noise.Â
   âwhy â why wouldnât i come with?â an unbidden feeling, cold and uncomfortable, coils uneasily in his stomachâs pit. what the fuck. âdonât tell me all that prophetic cult shit they were tossinâ around at jasirâs place is actually startinâ to make sense to you.â
    thereâs something to be said about self-fulfilling prophecies. she couldâve played it off like she was kidding, detoured the conversation, kissed him so that he forgot what she said at all. but they donât do that to one another. thereâs an honesty and openness that feels even more raw and unique, something completely their own, and she doesnât want to betray that. not after everything theyâve been through.Â
    âbad feeling,â she replies, first reaching up to smooth out that wrinkle in his brow before winding her arms around his middle to keep him close. she searches his eyes for long enough to warrant saying something, anything, and then continues. âcall me a pessimist, i just ... iâunno. the weird prophecy sounds like mumbo-jumbo and fuck the cult shit, but all this cure stuff?â
   instinctively, deannaâs arms wind a little tighter around him.Â
   âhey, ignore me. iâm talkinâ outta my ass. i, uh ... i just donât do good with the whole hey thereâs a light at the end of this tunnel kind of thing and i ââ the boys are laughing with bilal, the sun feels pretty nice at the moment, death isnât directly breathing down their necks right this second. deannaâs brow furrows in a mirror of craneâs earlier. âiâm worried if i put all our eggs into the weâre gonna be in the clear basket, things are gonna go belly up and... listen, iâve got a lot to lose.âÂ