It'll be OK. I'm ready. Blue, kiss me.

If Glendower had not saved Gansey's life, he did not know who to thank, or who to be, or how to live.

Wanting to live, but accepting death to save others: that was courage. That was to be Gansey's greatness.

Noah crouched over Gansey's body. He said, for the last time, 'You will live because of Glendower. Someone else on the ley line is dying when they should not, and so you will live when you should not.'
Gansey died.
'Goodbye,' Noah said. 'Don't throw it away.'
He quietly slid from time.

Where the hell is Ronan?” Gansey asked, echoing the words that thousands of humans had uttered since mankind developed speech. As he stepped out of the science building, he tipped his head backwards, as if Ronan Lynch – dreamer of dreams, fighter of men, skipper of classes – might somehow be flying overhead.

Henry shuffled the jewelled insect back out of his pocket. It amber heart warmed light through the pit again. “Back in the lab, of course, as father dear tries to copy it with nonmagical parts. My mother told me to keep this one to remind me of what I am.”
“And what is that?”
The bee illuminated both itself and Henry: its translucent wings, Henry’s wickedly cut eyebrows.
“Something more.