Somewhere along the way, during this hunt for Glendower, he'd forgotten to notice how much magic there was in the world. How much magic that wasn't just buried in a tomb. He was feeling it now.

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

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

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

Gansey looked angry for approximately the length of time it took for a late butterfly to bluster by them in the autumn breeze.

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.