When she sleeps that night, she doesn’t dream, not of a billion faces smiling, a susurration of thanks that sounds like the swell of the ocean as their gratitude laps her warmly.

Nor does she dream of the mothers holding out babies, faces sticky and sweet, the lovers with hands clasped tightly, the friends hugging friends, the animals from elephant to ant, trees from oaks to saplings...

All those are still here, because she succeeded, because she saved them.

And she doesn’t care. Her emptiness fills slowly, inexorably, and she wakes on a scream.

She sent him to hell.

Failure.



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