I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this. I'm way to young to have read this book and appreciate it fully, but I did appreciate it to the extent I could. Life changing piece of literature, is all I have to say now.

But, I seem to have made some silly (or creative?) mistinterpretations - it wasn't until after I had written this that I realised I hadn't quite understood the ending. But I wrote it for English, fell in love, and I'm now posting if for the general public. It's a sort of extended ending, if you will. Written under the false assumption that Demian had died and literally became one with Sinclair. ._.' Whoops?

Anyway, please enjoy. It's my first time writing with this sort of tone, and I hope it's to your liking. *curtsies and steps back*

-takes place sometime after the last chapter, when Sinclair is sent back home to his Lady Eve (or Fau Eva, depending on your translation)-


"Lady Eve," I greet when she opens the door for my return. Her reliable beauty has holdfast, and her radiant beam only adds to her charm.

"Sinclair," she sighs as her arms find their place around me, embracing me.

There is no exchange of greetings after that, no declarations of the pain of being apart. We would not waste time for such meaningless pleasantries and, anyway, we hadn't missed each other. To miss someone is imply they have been separated from you. But our love is so strong that mere distance and physical separation means little to us. As long as I loved her, and her, I, our beings could not be separated.

"Lady Eve," I say quickly, clasping onto her forearms and feeling her presence anchor me to a serene state. "Lady Eve, it's terrible! Demian! He-"

"I know," she interrupts, eyes soft and knowledgeable. "I knew all along it would end this way. And I am glad for it."

"You knew?" I echo, shaking her gently. Her tender, mother hands hold me steady. "You knew and you let him go? And you're glad for it? How could you!"

Lady Eve gave me a smile that spoke the secrets of her wisdom, and it calmed me to know someone knew, and this knowledge was not intimidating. I loved her for this, for emanating this peace that only those with knowledge could experience. If I had ever felt it myself, no sooner would I realise it would the feeling pass, fleeting and unsatisfying.

"Yes, I knew. It was his destiny," she sooths. "Do you remember what I told you? Demian knew his destiny, but he knew it was his path and followed it. He may not have been a smart man, and I not a smart mother, but we are ones of our destinies."

"I am not distressed that his physical presence is no more, Sinclair. And while I may still have him here, tied to earth by my love for him, his love for you kept himself tied here. Don't you see it Sinclair? His destiny was to meet you and love you like only can love oneself, and only because this path was to lead him to the end of this stage of his life and into another. He has become part of you, Sinclair. Do you not see it in the mirror?"

I found myself overwhelmed by this deluge of information, only managing to give Lady Eve a vague nod before she led me into the common room with a tender smile, leaving me alone to my thoughts.

In the time I had thought I had come to know Demian so well, I realised that I barely knew him! It was comparable to having the rug pulled out from beneath your feet.

But I supposed that the question was, how well did any human being know the next? Yes, we all sprung from the same spring of life and thought, but surely one branch of the tree cannot be in the savy of the details of another across its length. And even if it were to trace his origins back to the trunk where they had all stemmed from, there would no longer be enough common origins between them to understand each other. Each human being had a path set before him, and he'll never know what another path is like outside his narrow way unless he were to give up on his own journey.

But to learn that my dear friend's destiny was to guide and become one with mine, was a nearly disturbing concept. How did it feel to be my friend, to know that your destiny was to lose your individuality and become one with a fellow man you were born to love? I could hardly wrap my head around the scenario.

It was then I realised that while one's purpose was to realise one's destiny, it did not necessarily require knowledge of the path ahead of you, that was merely a luxury some would have - in fact it was nearly like a blind stumble forward for myself, or at least a very short-sighted stride. I was not gifted with sight like my Lady Eve's or even, to some degree, my friend's. They were courageous enough to see what lay before and continue to walk to their destiny.

I regard the situation again, considering more of my friend's perspective. His destiny feeding into mine, his very essence assimilating with my own. I feel a sudden rush of affection and respect for my friend - he had done so much to help me achieve what I had been destined to do since the moment of my birth! There was a sudden redoubling of interests about my destiny - I was no longer carrying my own burden, but that of my friend's. He had done his part to assist me in mine as he could, and now it was my turn to bear our destinies toward the final end. There was no hesitation in my gratitude for Demian, and I hoped to return the small amount of love he'd shown me.

I wander and fing my Lady Eve in the garden, plucking one of Demian's once favourite flowers. They held a sudden importance to me that I had not felt before.

"He loved me," I tell her, sure in my speech. "In ways that one can only love oneself."

She smiles, carefully transferring the delicate flower into my hands and clasping hers over mine. She gazes at me as a friend, a lover, and, now, her child.

"He does," she subtly corrects, a gentle smile on her lips. "He's better at this moment than we'll be for a long time."

"He loves me," I conclude and kiss her quietly, closing my eyes.

Behind my eyelids, I feel him stir, and I know that our paths are not as far from the trunk as I had previously thought. We are still all human beings, a fact that runs truer than blood, and the individual path could only lead us back to each other.