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It was a terrible thing, to live forever.
Even worse to spend forever alone.
It was all over. The Eyepocalypse, the Fears. Everything.
Martin.
Jon.
He was still alive. Well, in the loosest sense. He had no physical body, and he hated it. This feeling of existing, untethered to anything at all, was far too familiar.
Where he was, he couldn't tell. It was some sort of void, he supposed. Dark and empty and full of aching loss, the feeling that someone was just out of reach. The feeling of a leaf in the fall, breaking off of its branch and drifting to the ground, severed.
If Jon still had his wings, he would be swaddled in them. Alas. He didn't have much of anything anymore.
He still Knew things. But, once they branched out to beyond this universe, it blended into white noise.
Not that he cared.