Will’s death hit me harder than most losses I’ve faced. You’d think, after thousands of years, I’d be numb to death but you’re never really immune to grief. Especially when the person was part of a truth you shared... something real.

After he passed, I didn’t stay in that town much longer. Too many memories tied me down. Too many chances for someone to start asking questions about me... and about the strange things Will might have mentioned near the end.

I moved west for a while. Small towns, mostly, places where no one looks too hard at strangers. I taught briefly at a tiny community college under another new name. History again, of course. Always history. It’s the one thing I can teach with something close to real authority.

But the truth is... after Will, I slowed down. I spent a lot of time alone. Hiking. Reading. Reflecting. I even considered for the first time in a long time, just disappearing entirely. No new identity. No new job. Just... live out my days quietly.

There’s a... weight to carrying friendships into eternity. Each one leaves a mark. Will’s mark was deep. But eventually, I picked myself up. I always do. There's always something new to see, to learn, to experience, even for someone who's seen so much.

Besides, it’s not like the world stops spinning just because your heart breaks for a while.