Kneeling by the edge of the cliff once more, he extends his empty and open hand—flesh with his knuckles bruised and skin split wide open—over the precipice of Vormir and waits in the soundless void.

Finally, she reaches up for him; her hand is bloodied, fingers blistered, and she grips him fiercely as she always had as he tugs her up from the loosening clutches of the bleak cliffside. "You came for me," she says with quiet incredulity.

Keeping their hands intertwined, James brushes the back of his metal fingers gently against her temple. He smiles hopefully as she leans into his cool touch. "Of course," he says quietly, "I’ll always come for you."