In the dim, predawn light, Griffin found himself skulking through the hedgerows and fields, his mind a whirlwind of thwarted schemes and seething resentment. Kemp's betrayal burned hot in his chest, but he had no time for rage alone. He needed refuge, someone he could trust—or at least someone who had once trusted him.

A glimmer of memory cut through his fevered thoughts: the face of a Boy named Selina , framed by the wild locks of youth. She had been a friend, a confidante in those sunlit days when life was simpler. Could he still be that anchor he so desperately sought?

Driven by a wild hope, Griffin made his way to the small village where he hoped she still resided. The place had scarcely changed, save for the creeping ivy and the slow decay of time. It was here, amidst the familiar surroundings, that he allowed a rare moment of vulnerability to seep into his otherwise steely resolve.

He approached her parent's cottage as the first rays of morning broke the horizon. Every step towards the door echoed with the memories of shared laughter and whispered secrets. He could only pray he still remained, sheltered inside its ivy-drenched walls. Gathering himself, he knocked softly, the sound barely more than a ghost’s whisper.

The door creaked open, and there she stood, the face of childhood youth had slipped from her but she was unmistakably the same. Still young and vibrant. For a moment, Griffin felt a flicker of hope. Yet, the gleam of a ring on his finger caught the light—a symbol of a commitment that was not to him.

The sight of it struck him like a physical blow. The betrayal of Kemp was still fresh, and now this—a reminder of all he had lost, all he could never reclaim. The invisible man stood in her doorway, a figure of immense power yet utterly alone, staring at the remnants of a life that had slipped through his grasp.