Feeling Imoen's hands reach for her, Jade flinches instinctively, but doesn't withdraw completely. A part of her, stabbing and aching deep down, doesn't feel that she's worth the sympathy. That she had choked on that grief for this long, she could swallow it someday.

Leaning forward, resting her head between her knees, Jade just shakes her head. The mere notion of condemning that boy to such an existence sounds loathsome to her.

"Yes and no." Jade pauses. "Not all ghosts are dead -- not in the way you think. Old images etched into my brain, searched and always burning."

Jade had seen them her entire life, but they were phantasms; a madness that plagued her.