The rose ceremony ended at 4:17 AM.Bryce gave his rose to the quiet girl from Idaho. The quiet girl cried. Bryce wrapped his coat around her shoulders. The dramatic music swelled, and the credits rolled across the portable television that Mercy Sterling had carried eight hundred feet underground into a crystallized cathedral containing a cosmic egg, a glowing sister-in-law, and the oldest curiosity in existence.The golden cracks in the chamber floor pulsed. Warm. Satisfied. Eager."He wants the next episode," Haley reported, her pink-lit eyes half-closed, her off-key humming weaving the Lullaby's ancient melody between whispered translations of the First Dreamer's emotional state. "He really wants the next episode, Jack. Like, cosmically wants it.""Aaliyah," Jack transmitted from his position against the crystallized wall, his burned hands wrapped in gauze, his dead right gauntlet discarded, his left gauntlet barely glowing. "Queue Season Three, Episode Eight.
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