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Henry rose from the ground, his head spinning. Where was he? Where's Lark? Sparrow? Darryl?
Castle Ravenloft. His hands and chest ached as he slowly stepped forward, adjusting his glasses. He strained to see through the cracks in his vision. Someone was lying on the ground in front of him. Lark? Henry rubbed his eyes and stumbled forward. Lark lay in the cold dirt, his hand grasped firmly around something on his chest. Henry carefully unraveled his small, cold hands to find a bracelet. It was small and blue, made of plastic beads with Sparrows name painted onto them, and a black crystal. Henry swallowed hard and shook his son.
"Lark? Hey, it's me, Dad. Wake up," Henry shook, his hands trembling so hard he could barely lift the small limp boy. Henry held his ear to his chest.
Silence.
He pulled his son into a tight hold, stunned and unable to move. "Lark, please wake up," His whole body shook. "Where's your brother?"
Henry mustered all his strength as he brushed Larks hair out of his eyes. Blood trickled from a gash on his forehead. The small bracelet fell from Henry's hand as he knew he would never hear his son again. Not his laugh, not his silly jokes. He would never see his smile or watch him play with Sparrow as him and Mercedes cooked. Blood dripped onto his hand as Henry sobbed into Larks cold body. Hot tears seeped from his eyes and splashed onto the hard ground. His whole body ached as laid his son down, his limp covered body in beautiful flowers. Through his tears, he could make out a larger figure in the distance. Henry stumbled towards the figure, his legs weak and trembling. It was Darryl. His chest slowly rose and fell, his arms close to his chest.
"Darryl! Darryl, get up, oh God- please get up," Henry fell to his knees beside the man and placed his hands on his arm. Darryl opened his eyes slightly and smiled softly.
"We won, Henry." A tear slowly rolled down his cheek. "We can go home." Darryl coughed and let his arms sink to his sides to reveal Sparrow, tightly clinging to his chest. Darryl coughed again, blood spewing onto the ground.
"Fuck, Darryl," Henry threw his glasses on the ground and grabbed Sparrow from Darryl. He grunted and held his chest. Henry brushed Sparrows hair out of his eyes and listened for a sign he was alive. Short, small breaths came from his and Henry set him down, tears welling in his eyes. "Lark's dead." Dead. Lark is dead. Henry let the tears fall down his face. He held Sparrows hand, a small green bracelet falling from his grasp. Darryl reached out, unsure wither or not he would be allowed to comfort him for the last time. Henry faced him, his eyes full of rage and sadness and concern and love. Darryl spat more blood on the grass.
"First Glenn, then Ron, now me," Darryl chuckled. "I always knew you'd be the last one to go, Henry." Henry squeezed Darryl's hand. He closed his eyes and slowly let out a breath.
"Darryl, please don't go. I don't have anyone else. Please," Henry held Darryl's head up. "Darryl? Darryl, please! Oh God- fuck, fuck, fuck!" He yelled into the sky as he wept, heavy and heartfelt. He had lost almost everyone he had ever cared for. Darryl, Glenn, Ron, Lark. Henry wept for the happiness he had lost, for the memories and the love. He was alone in the world from now on. He swore never to forget them.