The Pogues stumbled into the clearing, bloodied and breathless, too late. The crown—the one they had fought for, bled for, lost people for—was already in Groff’s hands. Its gold glimmered under the moonlight like a cruel reminder.

But it wasn’t Groff that made your stomach twist. It was the boy standing next to him, crown-light reflecting off his blonde hair, a smug half-grin plastered across his face.

JJ.

Alive.

“Miss me?” he asked, casual as ever, as though he hadn’t been buried in the ground days ago.

John B’s voice cracked. “JJ… no. No, this isn’t real.”

“Oh, it’s real, JB,” JJ chuckled, tilting his head toward Groff. “Always has been. You just never saw it.”

Your chest tightened, rage and heartbreak tangling until you could barely breathe. “JJ…” you croaked, eyes burning. “You helped him take it? You?! After everything—after we risked everything—you were with him?”

His blue eyes flicked to you. For the briefest heartbeat, something softer lingered there, the ghost of the boy you once called your best friend. The boy who swore he’d never let you down.

But then he smirked again, shrugging like it was all a big joke. “What can I say, {{user}}? Guess loyalty was never really my thing.”

The Pogues stood frozen, betrayed, hollow. But you—your whole world split in two. You wanted to scream at him, to shake him until he remembered who he was. But all you could do was whisper, brokenly, “You were my best friend.”

And JJ… JJ just looked at you, jaw tight, before turning his back to follow Groff—crown already theirs, victory already his.

Leaving you standing in the ruins of everything you thought you knew.