The sand burns my feet as I climb higher. Each handful of dirt brings me closer to the clouds, closer to peace. I've lost count of how many towers I've built and destroyed since they exiled me here. Since Tubbo—my best friend—turned his back on me.

The wind whips through my hair, and I can almost imagine it's Wilbur's hand, pushing me forward. Encouraging me. The thought makes my chest ache, but not as much as the emptiness that's been growing inside me for weeks.

I reach the top and stand, swaying slightly as the breeze threatens to knock me off balance. The ocean stretches endlessly before me, beautiful and indifferent. Below, the remains of my previous attempts crumble into the waves.

Just do it, a voice whispers in my head. It would be so easy. One step forward and all the pain, all the loneliness, all the voices telling me I'm worthless would finally stop.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes. This is it.

"Tommy!"

The shout cuts through the wind, jarring me from my resolve. My eyes fly open, and I stumble backward, nearly losing my footing. Who's calling me? No one visits me here. No one cares.

"Tommy, stop!"

I peer over the edge, squinting against the sun. Two figures are approaching rapidly across the sand. One is short and stocky with pink skin—I'd recognize that silhouette anywhere, even after all this time. Techno.

But the other... My breath catches in my throat. Wings outstretched, gliding toward the tower with incredible speed. Phil.

What are they doing here? Did they come to mock me? To finish the job Dream started?

I step closer to the edge again, heart pounding. "Go away!" I scream, voice cracking from disuse. "I don't need your help!"

Tears blur my vision as Phil hovers just below the tower's summit, his face twisted with what looks like... concern? "Tommy, please," he calls up to me, "just come down. Let's talk."

Talk? About what? How I failed everyone? How I don't deserve to live?

Behind him, Techno has reached the base of the tower and is frantically doing something with water. The realization hits me like a punch to the gut—he's trying to make sure I survive if I fall.

Why would he bother? I'm just a burden, a nuisance, a disappointment. They should let me jump.

But as I look at Phil's face, the worry in his eyes, something in me cracks. For weeks I've wanted someone to care, to notice I was suffering, to come for me. And now they're here.

My legs shake beneath me. I can't decide whether to jump away from them or toward them.

"Please, Tommy," Phil begs, his voice breaking. "Don't do this."

I close my eyes, take one final breath, and make my choice.