He's wearing a white chiton, lightly toned arms crossed over his pale chest. Damien's face tightens, briefly, when he sees Hector staring with his mouth open.

For a moment, though, Hector thinks he's mistaken. This can't be Damien—wings are sprouting from his shoulder blades, trailing all the way down to the floor. That's where all the feathers are from; Hector wants to laugh. But he can't. His throat is closing up.

'Damien?' he forces the name out. 'Damien, it's me. He—'

'Hector,' Damien finishes softly. He doesn't move from the sill, even as Hector starts to cross over to him, eyes wide, so wide. He only watches— Hector can't tell from his face, but Damien's heart is pounding as hard as the waves outside. He can hear them, even all the way up in the tower: they're his heartbeat. He says, 'I've been looking for you.'

Then, as Hector's fingers reach out to touch him, Damien lets himself fall backwards into the open air.

Hector doesn't scream. The cry that comes tearing out his throat is too mangled to be called that, but the agony in it is unmistakable. His stomach drops so abruptly he almost doubles over from the cramp. He runs to the window, nicking his shin against an open trunk stuffed to the brim with jars and candles. He stumbles; something crashes to the ground. He doesn't care to look.

Damien has vanished from view. Hector grabs onto the windowsill to steady himself and peers over.

A gust of wind hits him in the face, sending him reeling. Damien shoots past, wings spread as he wheels away from the window with a graceful arch. They make brief eye contact, and Hector feels like he has swallowed glass.

He can only watch as Damien gets further away from him, streaking towards the sun. Hector cups his hands around his mouth and hollers the name that's been burning in his heart since he was fifteen. In the open air between them, his voice is tiny. The ocean swallows it up, the lack of an echo unnerving.

If Damien hears him, he makes no indication. He only soars higher and higher. Hector has to shield his eyes against the brightness of day, trying to track Damien's progress.

Then like a bird caught on a spear, Damien's wings stop in mid-motion. His body falls limp— and he drops into the sea as heavy and as silent as a stone.