“It ends, he thought—no fear, only relief, and sadness. He had tried. Had given everything he could. But he was so tired. The rustle of leaves in his ears was getting louder, and he felt himself sinking against the tree, into the embrace of something softer than metal, darker than night. His heart slowed, winding down like a music box, a season at its end. The last air left Holland’s lungs. And then, at last, the world breathed in.”