Feel the hollowness inside of your heart and it's all right where it belongs.

Another night at its inception. I don't even need to open my eyes to know that he still isn't back. His scent is only a whisper from the wrinkled folds of his hoodie. Its been four nights.

"I will never willingly leave you forever..."

The memory of Alex's words haunt me. Unwilling. Who is keeping him from me? My hands clench on the edge of the table, obliterating the wood to splinters between my fingers. The tissue thin tethers of my sanity stretch and tauten. I squeeze my hands into fists, oblivious to the threads of blood trickling through my knuckles.

"Death is the only thing that's going to keep me away.."

I remember the gray and desolate landscape of the Shadowlands.
Do I? Do I?
If Alex were dead, I would see him. I would be able to. Just like that burned guy at the Barony. Just like Fredrick. Just like the creeper who winked at me at the Swap Meet. He can't be dead. He's mine. I won't allow it. I don't care if I have to hunt down that Al guy and make him take me to the Fae world. I will scour any and every dimension until I find him. And if he...if he's... I will butcher anyone who holds his blood on their hands.

My Alex. I love you. Please come back to me.

My thoughts center on the coterie of Anarchs. Alive. Safe. Celebrating the acquisition of that dispensary thing. Safe. While my Alex is dead or dying or in danger. Troy's casual grin seems to mock me. The Baron. Does that mean he can doom his people to a fate unknown? His person. My person.

My Alex. I won't let your disappearance go uninvestigated. Or unpunished.

I rise from the spindly stool, knocking it over in the process. I stare at it, uncomprehending. After a moment, I reach across the table, retrieving my K bar and tucking it into my boot. I walk over to the closet, open it, and look down.

Hello, old friend.

The metal is without rust. The leather harness still feels supple and strong. I heft the object and stroke my fingers along the chain. I breathe in, and the smell of oil and lubricant are sharp in my nostrils. The starter still pulls from its housing with little catch or drag. Holding the bulky item in my left hand, I slide the harness over my back with my right hand. After another affection stroke to the saw, I slide it into the harness. My expression is serene, despite the chaos and hysteria in my head. I make my way outside, concentrating just enough to conceal the weapons from mundane view. I still feel the cold comfort of my K bar as it scrapes against my calf.

Adjusting the unseen, yet equally comforting heft of my chainsaw, I put on speed and make my way towards Crownsville.

Towards the Anarch Barony.

https://youtu.be/OXSkfTedVb0